Leaves of Gold
by Ash Light
Summary: The Sheriff's plan isn't over yet. The outlaws have more tests ahead of them, and they'll need all the allies they can get. Some of which might cause more harm than good...as old enemies are forced to become new friends. Based on the BBC 2006 version.
1. Chapter 1: Schemes and Smiles

**Leaves of Gold**

**A/N**: The obession with Robin Hood _2006_ is getting worse. That, and a sudden urge to write the Sheriff, has prompted this fic. First chapter doesn't hold much (apart from Gisborne losing his temper a _lot _and Robin being unable to stop smiling) but will get better, promise. And it will include more of the gang - double promise. How could I not include Will, Allan and Little John? It would be mean...

Read, and enjoy! And review, as per usual.

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He. Was. Going. To. Kill. Hood.

No two ways about it. Oh sure, in some ways the man was amusing. He made a nice change from the love-sick Gisborne, he made his blasted job interesting, he made life _interesting_. The man was a worthy opponent.

But after being hung upside down in his own hall by his own _shoe_, Vasey had decided that enough was enough.

"Where's the blushing bridegroom?" He demanded to his guards, striding into the newly emptied Hall of Nobles, "Gisborne, where is he? I want the man here, right now. I don't care if he's in the middle of consummating his new marriage," One hand smacked down on the table top, "I want him _in here_!"

Gisborne had better turn up soon. Now that he was married to _dear_ Marian, perhaps the big jester would finally stop acting like a love-sick twit and start _dealing_ with Hood. Vasey grimaced, fingering his newly-inserted tooth with distaste. Fool. Couldn't even organise a simple ambush without costing him his tooth.

By his own shoe. He had to admit, Hood did have a certain style – clever little bit of archery work there, as a matter of fact – but the bloody _cheek_ of the man.

Sitting down in his chair and rifling through the parchment that was in front of him, Vasey raised an eyebrow as his second-in-command entered the room, directing the scathing glance at the desk. Let Gisborne suffer for a while.

"I assume the wedding went off well, then?"

The embarrassed silence in front of him was too good to ignore. Vasey looked up coolly to see Gisborne, still in his bridegroom's garb, looking distinctly uncomfortable, angry and wounded at the same time. He felt the hint of a smirk begin to pull at his mouth.

Vasey blinked innocently, "Or not?"

Gisborne's face contorted slightly, enough to show his displeasure, "Hood's manservant burst in at the last moment, shrieking about how the king was an impostor and the whole scheme was a trap. Marian was so concerned for her father she ran out of the wedding," He scowled, directing a glare in the amused Sheriff's direction, "A scheme which _you_ devised."

"Oh, _sorry_," He sneered, not in the mood to hear about Gisborne's marital woes,, "My heart bleeds for you, Gisborne. Truly heart-breaking."

The dark haired man folded his arms, evidently not finished, "She came straight here, or so my men tell me. I am surprised you did not see her."

"Well, I was a little too busy dangling from the ceiling," Vasey snarled, "We don't all act like simpering idiots when Marian enters a room, you know."

Watching Gisborne scowl darkly at the floor only improved his mood a little bit. This was it; the last straw. If Hood hadn't interfered, Vasey would have had the proof he needed to nail Edward, the man he was convinced had been the ringleader of the rebellion. And now….

"And are we sure it was just fear for her father that made _dear_ Marian run? Are you entirely convinced that it was not something, or indeed someone, else that made her leave you, leave you in the lurch, mm? What do you think?" He mused. Oh, he knew which of Gisborne's buttons to push – true to form, Gisborne's stance had become more rigid, threatened with this new possibility, "I say…it's time we came up with a new plan."

00000000

Much turned around from his position under a large, and rather prickly, fern bush, to shoot an incredulous look at his master. When this had no lasting effect, he raised his hand and waved it animatedly in front of Robin's eyes. This didn't seem to work much either, and he rolled his eyes, crouching further in the bushes, "It's been, what, three days?"

"Four," answered his small, dark-haired companion.

"Four days, then," The young man conceded, "Which makes it even worse. And no respite?"

"None at all," Djaq jumped neatly down from where she'd been precariously perched in one of the lower branches of a tree, "Do not be so alarmed, Much. It will probably be good for him."

"It is not normal," Much said firmly, "for a man to go four days and not – stop – smiling!"

Robin listened to his two friends continue to discuss his mental health with a wry grin on his face – at least, there would be, if he wasn't already beaming. It had indeed been four days, and as much to his surprise as anyone else's, he simple could not stop smiling. His mouth was beginning to _hurt_. Allan was convinced that he'd even kept smiling while he was sleeping, which had lead to some _very_ unsavoury comments from the young man. Loud ones too, at that.

He'd have objected – if he could stop smiling.

But he couldn't help it. Ever since he had seen Marian run out of her wedding, a large smile had been fixed firmly on his mouth. And then, when they'd finally kissed, after all this time, it had got wider. By the time Vasey had been fixed to his ceiling by his own shoe, it had become a veritable beacon.

He was still amazed at the events that had taken place after Marian's wedding. How a day that could have started out so terribly could have ended to up to be possibly the best day of his life….Admittedly, the Sheriff was still in power. And Gisborne had not been exposed for the liar and traitor that he was. And the king had _not_ returned. And Marian was still trapped at Knighton, where Gisborne could carry one with his advances. And they were still outlaws.

But still, she'd done it!

Robin's gleeful reverie was broken off by the noise of a raised voice, the words unclear but the anger plain. Signalling to the two outlaws next to him, he snatched his bow up from the ground and crept out from his hiding place towards the village of Loxley, securing himself behind one of the houses. His grin became, if possible, slightly wider, as he recognised the voice. Gisborne. Anything that made Gisborne angry made Robin very, very happy.

The centre of the village, usually empty except for a few passing villagers as they made their way about their work, was half full of the occupants of Loxley, all facing towards the hall. Gisborne was standing in front of them, dressed for riding and in a hell of a rage.

Even from where he was, Robin could see the sullen set of every villager's shoulders. But the main brunt of Gisborne's words were obviously directed at Ian Thornton, standing straight-backed at the head of the villains, deliberately between them and their lord's rage.

Robin permitted himself a small chuckle, proud of the way his (former) Steward stood up to Gisborne. He did not like the idea of Gisborne bullying his people for whatever small crime had been committed in the village this time, but Thornton's terse stance told him that he had the situation under control. Beside him, Much was snickering gleefully at Gisborne's furious expression.

"My lord, this is a village of farmers," Thornton answered clearly in his strong, carrying voice, with a hard-edged patience that told Robin that he had already been over this more than once, "They are not soldiers; how could they have stopped Robin Hood from riding away?"

The villagers nodded sullenly, amusement at their lord's failed wedding giving them confidence. Standing close behind the steward, Tristan the reeve, a stocky, well-built man, growled so everyone could hear, "And where he went, you wouldn't care to follow!"

Gisborne pointed at him, furious, "You! You're responsible for these villains, you should have been first to prevent Hood from leaving! Dreaming your way to perdition while he walks off free as you please!"

It seemed to be only Thornton's presence that prevented Tristan from being skewered on Gisborne's sword.

"You want Robin Hood back, you send your soldiers to get him," Tristan answered loudly. His smile, if not disappearing, then lessening slightly, Robin crept even further towards the gathering, still hidden amidst the cluster of houses, "But not one of us'll prevent an outlaw from leaving where he wants to leave – the sooner he's off and away the better! We're lucky he leaves us well alone! That's what I say! And anybody who tries to follow him is asking for what happens to him!"

Behind and around him the other villains glanced conspiratorially at each other and nodded. One of the bolder men even spoke up, "Tristan has the right of it!"

Myfanwy, a bent, wizened old woman who had been an ancient since Robin could remember, piped up shrilly, "You can't ask any decent man to go where Robin Hood goes! The devil's advocate, that what he is!"

Robin stifled a laugh as he saw Gisborne's incredulous face, fury torn with utter exasperation. Then he stifled an even louder laugh as he saw the indignant look on Much's face.

"Superstitious rubbish," Gisborne raged, "And an excuse for not doing your _duty_ and instead helping and sympathising with outlaws!"

Thornton stood his ground tersely, "These are our villagers, my lord, and I can say I've never known them given to such lying as this. Maybe they've the right of it. Maybe they do believe…"

Gisborne spat on the ground.

Now almost shaking with repressed laughter at the sight of Gisborne's speechless fury, Robin straightened up to see Sulien Thornton stand slightly behind his father. A thin, angular-faced young man with lank brown hair, Sulien directed a malicious grin unequivocally at Gisborne.

Robin closed his eyes. _The fool_, he couldn't help thinking. Sulien's particular desire to cause mischief had only been fuelled further by Gisborne's arrival in Loxley. Sheltering behind his father's position, Sulien had pushed Gisborne's temper further and further with each passing day – usually Robin would have liked this, but with Gisborne already at breaking point…

"He shouldn't keep harassing the villagers," Sulien muttered to one of his fellows, "Wonder what the Lady Marian would say about that?"

Thornton turned to lay a warning hand on his son's shoulder, but before he could, Gisborne had grabbed Sulien by the lapels of his shirt, dragging the young man forward, "I should keep a civil tongue in your head, Master Thornton," He snarled threateningly, smirking slightly as Sulien's cocky grin faded, his light grey eyes flickering with fear, "Your father's position in my household will only protect you so long," Shooting a contemptuous glare at the surrounding villagers, he flung the young man back to the ground, before stalking back to Loxley hall, where his horse was being held for him, and mounted. Glaring threatening at them once last time, Gisborne jerked his horse around, and then left.

No one moved or spoke until the splash and clatter of his going, and his entourage after him, were well away. Heads turned together, and smiles were directed at each other, but no-one spoke. The general air of a job well done seemed to surround them. Even the fallen Sulien Thornton, who had been raised and then shaken warningly by his father, grinned with satisfaction.

His job of protecting the villagers from Gisborne's wrath finished, Thornton slipped past the other villagers, nodding to them as he went, and made his way to the edge of the forest, looking about around him as he went. Grinning, Robin waited until his old friend had past their hiding place before springing out at him, clapping him around the back.

"So, I'm the devil's advocate now, am I?"

Taking a sharp gasp of breath, Thornton permitted himself a small smile, nodding to Much and Djaq as he stepped backwards, "If Gisborne thinks that the villagers believe you to be a spirit of the forest and a devil's advocate - well, so much the better. They will be questioned less because of it."

"Then it was a good idea," Robin agreed, grinning mischievously, "and you are to be commended for it."

"Me, Robin?" Thornton's face was neutral, his voice just a little too innocent, "What gives you the idea that the plan was mine?"

"I really have no idea," Robin said dryly.

Chuckling, Robin turned back from his steward to look out at the village. Right now, you could hardly guess that this land with wracked with oppression and injustice from the Sheriff and his cronies. The villagers were still dispersing away from their cluster, a few of the younger lads crowing triumphantly at Gisborne's fury, Sulien right at their head. Mothers were sharing mischievous grins with their children. Myfanwy hobbled away, chuckling to herself. The air of well-being was thick throughout the village, and for the fifth time in four days, Robin's smile became even wider. Shooting a look over at Much and Djaq, he was pleased to see that they too were grinning broadly.

Thornton's voice interrupted their reverie, "Do not think that just because Gisborne has come out worst in this battle that he has given up, sir . The events of the wedding have only made him more determined to see you at the end of a rope. His battle with you has only just begun, Robin."

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**A/N**: I hate my cliffhangers. They always remind me of an ending from _Eastenders_. Ah well.

You know, you have to love the sarcasticness of the Sheriff. He's made it into something of an art. More of the gang in the next chapter! Now go, review! And eat chocolate...

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	2. Chapter 2: Threats and Teasings

**A/N: **I'm updating regularly. This is nothing if not surprising.

And...this chapter sucks, me thinks. I just had to introduce all the characters and get them solidified before we moved on to the main plot. It will get better, promise. With more of the gang and more sarcastic-Sheriff. What fun.

Enjoy!!

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"Gisborne has been even more secretive than usual these past few days," Thornton muttered quietly across the table to Robin.

The three outlaws had been invited back into the kitchen of the servant's quarters, a small, comfortable room where both Robin and Much had spent a long portion of their lives hiding, eating and generally making a nuisance of themselves in. Thornton's niece, Hannah, a cheerful, rosy cheeked young girl with blond hair, was busy making bread in a corner of the room, occasionally shooting Robin and Much hopeful, flirtatious glances. Robin had winked back, while Much blushed right to the roots of his blond hair. Djaq raised an eyebrow wryly.

"And more irritable, from what we saw," Robin, sitting astride one of the kitchen chairs across from Thornton, commented, a faint smile still lingering around his lips.

Thornton coughed pointedly, and Hannah moved reluctantly out of the room, looking coyly across at Much one last time, causing the young man (who had been surreptitiously delving into the fruit bowl) to drop the apple he was pinching and mutter something inaudible. Ignoring Robin's snigger, Thornton lowered his voice, "He has been visiting the castle a lot more than usual, and spending a lot of time in his study, doing nothing, writing nothing. Ever since the wedding, when he left for Nottingham, he has been…well, planning something."

"No prizes for guessing what," Much muttered, having retrieved the apple, "And I'm guessing that visit to Nottingham had something to do with it."

Robin nodded, smiling despite himself, "Well, I do not think that I endeared myself to our old friend by stringing him up to his own ceiling. And I will be surprised if he does not set a trap for us within the next week or so. In fact," He spread his hands blithely, a very picture of a carefree man, "I should be disappointed if he doesn't!"

His former steward shook his head, his young master's happy-go-lucky attitude not spreading to him, "Robin, listen to me. This is not like his other schemes. Gisborne feels that you have humiliated him, that it is your doing that Marian struck him, leaving him at the alter – "

"Jilting him," Much snickered.

"Well, yes! For want of a better word, sir, you stole Marian from him, and Gisborne is not a man to take thieves lightly."

Robin couldn't help feeling a rush of pride at Thornton's words, although his grave nature made him sigh. Thornton was getting put in danger when he informed Robin of these things – leaning forward, he shook his head, "You should not be telling me these things. You should not be putting yourself in danger every few minutes! And I am sorry I have placed you in the middle of this."

Thornton shook his head, finally smiling slightly, "What's a little danger to me? I am content with my life. I have a good home, a fine job, I have had a good life – "

"NO, Sulien!" Robin spun around from out of his chair to look at the door to the yard, where two very loud voices were screaming at each other, "No, no, no!"

"Sioned…"

"Why must you persist? Why must you? Now stop bothering me!" There was a loud splash from outside the door, as if something had been flung into the water butt, "And find someone else to rope into a scheme!"

"Sioned, you know I can't handle Gisborne on my own!"

"Then don't handle him at all!"

Much looked uneasily back at Thornton, "And you have two…peaceful, quiet children."

Thornton smiled ruefully, shaking his head. Ever since the older man's wife had died ten years ago, his greatest joy (and greatest weakness) had been his two children, Sulien and Sioned. Before he could open his mouth to remonstrate him, the door burst open and Sulien stomped back in, followed by a young woman a few years his junior. With dark red hair and a face which, although not beautiful, could be thought of as attractively interesting, Sioned Thornton stormed after her brother, a veritable storm of vehemence. Both Robin and Much shrank behind the door which had just been flung open.

"Such a quiet, sweet-tempered lass," Much hissed. Djaq, who had never met the Thornton family before, scrambled over to the two cowering outlaws, torn between amusement and bemusement.

"Who is that?"

"The boy is Sulien, Thornton's son, and the thunderstorm next to him is his sister Sioned."

Djaq frowned for a minute, watching Sioned berate her brother. Thinking back to a particular evening around the camp, a slight flash of remembrance came over the Saracen's face, "Is she the one who Will called a 'mad, hell-bent harpy'?"

Much screwed up his face, torn between wincing and grinning, "Well…they don't get on too well."

Quietly storing this information up for further use, Djaq watched as the young woman yelled at her brother, Sulien returning the argument as good as he could give. Studying them carefully from the safety of the door, a small smile crept over her face. There was some resemblance between the two, the same sharp features and grey eyes, although Sioned's were much darker than Sulien's, the same stance. Djaq couldn't help feeling slightly wistful, remembering similar screaming matches with her brother. She'd always win, of course.

Of course.

"Sioned, for pity's sake, stop yelling at me!" Sulien finally interrupted, wearing a slightly hunted look. Robin could have sworn that he'd seen the same look on a deer, moments before Allan had shot it down. Running a weary hand through his hair, he grabbed a tumbler of wine and downed it, eyeing his sister warily.

Sioned folded her arms, looking imploringly from her father to her brother, "You deserve it. Openly insulting Gisborne – what were you thinking? You believe you're Robin Hood now?"

"I wonder," Robin mused thoughtfully, his face set in mock-contemplation, "if I should take that as a complement or as an insult?"

Sulien gagged on the wine, almost spitting it straight out. Sioned whirled around, her face suddenly a lot more pleasant now that it was not twisted in anger, "Master Robin!" Beaming, she flung her arms around Robin's shoulders and pulled him into a hug, whereupon he grabbed Sioned around the waist, spinning her around in the air. Much abruptly scrambled out of the way.

"There was a time I could do that without fear of injuring any onlookers," Robin smirked, setting a rather more dizzy Sioned back down on the ground again. Much quickly ran forward to steady her, "You've been growing since we last paid a visit."

The small woman shot Robin a disbelieving look as he moved forward to greet Sulien, "I haven't grown in months and you know it," She grumbled, "You're teasing me again."

"When have I ever teased you before?"

Four pairs of eyes looked disbelievingly at him.

"Alright, stupid question," More to avoid Much's smirk that anything else, Robin turned to Djaq, who had been lurking, almost shyly, behind the door, "Sulien, Sioned, meet Djaq. Djaq, this is Sulien and Sioned."

The two women regarded each other warily for a moment, neither of them speaking or giving way, before Sioned managing a tentative grin, almost as if some test had been passed, "Come and have something to eat," She offered, pulling out another chair.

Much watched the two girls sit down and begin to converse quietly with a bewildered look on his face, "I will _never _understand women."

For a moment, Robin was tempted to make a joke at his friend's expense, before shaking his head, "You said Gisborne's been spending more time at the castle lately?" He asked, looking thoughtful as Thornton nodded, "Thornton, tell me everything."

000

"I liked Sioned," Djaq said thoughtfully as they walked back through the forest, "I don't see any of the 'harpy' in her."

"You say that now, but you try getting her angry and making it out alive," Much muttered, grinning slightly, "She can get very….violent for such a small person. It's like Robin's bow. Small, but powerful."

"And apt to cause a lot of damage," Robin chipped in, breaking off from his reverie. While Much and Djaq had chattered through the forest, he had been silent, thinking furiously about Thornton's words, "No clue, nothing, as to what the Sheriff and Gisborne are planning," He muttered quietly, more to himself than his companions, "And we can no longer use Marian as a spy…she'll be in enough danger already."

Thinking about Marian made him smile again despite the worry that was running through his head. Marian would probably want to help them, now more than ever, but after the events that had taken place….He couldn't put her in such danger.

Looking over at his master, Much clapped him on the back, "Don't worry so much. Gisborne will probably invent another archery competition to lure you out, we'll all try and stop you going, you'll go anyway, almost get _hanged_, but manage to escape at the last moment. All we need then is for one of us to be made Earl of Bonchurch, Allan and Will both to confess their love for the same girl at the same time, and have assassins from the Holy Lands try and _kill us_, and it'll be a perfectly normal day."

Robin burst out laughing, grateful for his friend's attempt to cheer him up. He was right, they did seem to get in a lot of scrapes…. Djaq smiled, but looked thoughtful.

"Where did you get the idea of Allan and Will being in love with the same girl from?" She asked, looking perplexed, "I remember the other incidents, but…."

Much's face turned a bright, beautiful shade of red as he blushed, for a moment completely tongue-tied, "I….ah….f-hah…flennin….it….I…Will…Allan….erm….ah..."

For a moment, Robin watched his man-servant stutter, Much becoming hastily more and more embarrassed, with an amused look on his face, before shaking his head. Much _had _just tried to cheer him up – even if he was more cheered up by his friend's stutterings than anything else, "Happened before you joined the gang," He announced over Much's voice, "Don't bring it up in front of the boys."

Djaq nodded, now watching Much sympathetically, "Much, relax. I won't tell them you told me."

His face fading to a more normal skin-tone, the young man nodded, still looking slightly panicked. Images of Allan and Will eviscerating him with their own bows had been flashing rather dramatically past his eyes. It had not been fun. His visions (which had transferred into a rather nasty one of him being slowly fried in his own frying pan – while he was alive) quickly vanished as they stumbled into the camp, the smell of cooking rabbit wafting towards them. Much made a beeline for the fire, waving absent-mindedly to the others.

Robin flung himself down on the ground, next to Will, who was sharpening his axe attentively. The young man nodded, eyes fixed on the sharpening stone, "How'd it go?"

"Lovely. Gisborne is just as charming as ever. But we saw Thornton today," Robin said, in a would-be casual tone. Djaq noticed his eyes glint mischievously, "And Sulien – and Sioned."

If the comment was meant to needle Will, it didn't do anything of the slightest. He carried on sharpening the axe, eyebrows raised slightly, and didn't even look up, "So, how is the Second Horsewoman of the Apocalypse?"

Djaq inhaled the mouthful of water she'd been swallowing, surprised at the uncharacteristic response from Will. The other men, however, looked quite unperturbed, "Will!"

"Told you they didn't get on," Much snickered, "Ever since Will put a spider in Sioned's meal when they were kids and Sioned retaliated by pushing him in the pigpen."

Allan let out a loud shout of laughter, causing Will to roll his eyes, "That family hates us! Well, not Thornton, but as for Sulien and Sioned – and you're telling me it started with a spider?"

"She started it! How was I supposed to know the girl was afraid of spiders?"

Much snickered, "Will, she almost _ate _the thing."

"If we could move on from this discussion…" Robin smirked, before reverting to seriousness, "Someone has to go down to Loxley in a couple of days. Thornton does not know what new havoc the Sheriff and Gisborne will be planning, so we need to keep up a constant watch on Loxley."

"We will," Allan said, grinning, as he pointed to himself and Will, "Haven't seen that pretty niece of Thornton's in a while….Besides," He added quickly as the rest of the gang groaned, "Will wouldn't want to miss seeing Sioned."

Will snorted, "Thanks."

000000

"Hoods up," Allan reminded his friend as they both stepped out from the shadows and relative safety of the forest to approach Loxley, "After last Saturday, I don't think Gisborne's gonna be too pleased if he sees us lurking around on the edge of his property."

"When was he ever pleased to see us?" Will asked, stepping into the shadows of Loxley hall.

"Well, alright," The young man conceded, shrugging, "The man's a bloody maniac, I swear – Oi!"

Hood up, and face hidden, Will didn't notice the drawn sword directed at him until it was almost directly pointing into his face. Involuntarily pulling the axe from his back, his eyes widened slightly as he saw Sulien Thornton wielding the weapon, the flicker of a malicious smile on his face. Before he could protest, Sulien swept the sword towards him, forcing Will to use his own weapon against the young man, trying his best to defend himself long enough to pull his hood away from his face. It was hard work – Sulien's thrusts and swipes were fierce enough to take up all of his concentration.

"Oi!" Allan yelled indignantly, stepping back a few paces as Will was driven backwards – not bothering to help, of course. _Thanks Allan_, Will though grimly, "Sulien, what're you playing at? It's us!"

No flicker of recognition, no remembrance, passed over Sulien's face. Either he didn't recognise Allan's voice, or he knew who they were already…. Before Will could angrily demanded what was going on himself, Sulien's outstretched foot caught him around the ankle, sending the young man tumbling to the ground. The sword followed him, coming to rest gently against Will's neck.

Allan shook his head, pulling out his own sword. _Better late than never_…. "Alright, I'm not being funny, but this has gone far enough, alright? This is us, you stup…."

The unmistakable sound of a bowstring being pulled back caused Allan to stop in mid sarcastic-comment, his eyes slowly travelling to the window. Leaning out the window was the rather worrying sight of Sioned Thornton with arrow on the string, and pointing it straight in the direction of his chest. Granted, Sioned was no great shot, but she was at such close range that if the shot went wild, it would either damage his head or a certain part of his anatomy which he wanted to keep in prime condition, thankyouverymuch...Allan dropped the sword and held his hands up helplessly, still feeling utterly bewildered.

If she didn't have such an innocent smile as well as everything….

Feeling more than a little irritated that he'd let Sulien Thornton beat him, Will scowled, eyes flickering from Sulien to Sioned. There were certain things that a man should not be made to endure in his lifetime, and facing Sioned Thornton with an arrow on the string was one of them…Suddenly, Will was desperately relieved that Sulien had managed to best him, instead of leaving him to the mercy of his sister.

"This is us!" Will snarled, pulling his hood away from his face, "Wake up, Sulien, didn't you recognise us?"

By the smirk on Sulien's face, the answer was obvious.

"Oh…I am sorry," The young man stressed, withdrawing the sword slowly, "I must have mistaken you for a – common outlaw. Must'nt I have, Sioned?"

Sioned's right arm was starting to shake from the effort of keeping the taught bowstring pulled tightly, but she managed to keep the bow up. Allan couldn't help feeling utterly relieved, "Oh, you must've done," She said, voice slightly breathless from the strain. Allan was starting to eye the trembling arrow with some trepadation, "For the love of – don't just stand there, you two, get inside before any of Gisborne's men see you."

The young man scowled, glowering at Sulien's back as he walked back into the servant's quarters, looking far too pleased with himself, "You attacked us in broad daylight! And you think that _didn't _draw attention to us?"

Sioned was starting to wear that particularly threatening glare that seemed to be reserved for Will alone. He had to restrain himself from gulping as he scrambled to his feet, "How were we supposed to know who you were?"

"Oh, you recognised us, and you know it."

"Contrary to your belief, I do not pay as much attention to you as you would like to think, though to mi – "

"Now you're just making excuses – "

"I don't need to make – OW!"

Sioned let out a yelp of pain, wringing her wrist with a flinching expression. Her right hand, which had been pulled sharply back to keep the arrow pulled back, had been keeping it pulled back far too long for it be endured, and had finally let the taught string go, letting it slap sharply into her left wrist. The boys would have found this more funny if the arrow hadn't been pointing straight at them. Luckily the shot went wild, flying over their heads, and Allan hit the floor with something that sounded like a scream as the arrow came whistling over, imbedding itself solidly in the house next to Loxley hall.

Shaking slightly, Allan looked up and behind him to see half of the arrow still showing, the head end thoroughly hidden, "Dammit, woman! You're bloody dangerous, you are!"

For a slight moment, Sioned's mouth twitched into a smile, looking as though she'd just been paid a compliment, "Thanks. Just get in, will you?" Shooting a last, blackened look at Will, who was desperately trying not to laugh at Allan's predicament, she shook her head and withdrew from the window. Will couldn't help making a face at her retreating back.

Allan rolled his eyes from the ground, "Mature."

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**A/N:** I hated that chapter, I really did. It will get better, I promise!

Thanks to: **MontyPythonFan** (the finale was indeed excellent. Enjoy the chocolate!), **pixiespryte** (Thanks! I think the whole world knows what Robin's happy about...) **robinsangel92** (Bwaha...we shall have to wait and see what the Gruesome Twosome have planned), **Lisa** Thanks! More here, **Stargazing BasketCase** (UPDATE Unintended Consequences, woman!! I hope the Muse is working hard...and I do reckon I should be worried about the fact that I seem to be good at writing the Sheriff...) **RixxiSpooks** (Thanks! Hooray for cheesy cliffhangers!) **Pyro's Electra** (The Sheriff's hard not to love, isn't he? Thanks for the review!) and **A-Heart-Of-Gold** (I know, neither can I! It's too far away!)

Ok, next chapter coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3: Rows and Reunions

**A/N:** Hello all! Have managed to update fairly quickly yet again. What is wrong with me??? This is not normal.

And in this chapter...Robin/Marian-ness. Much Robin/Marian-ness. But we love them, right? Because every story needs a load of soppy romanticness every now and then. The balance is hastily restored by a loud argument between Will and Sioned, and a pie theft.

...Just read it, why don't you?

* * *

"You screamed."

"I did not scream."

"Allan, I _heard_ you. You screamed!"

"I didn't scream! Look, it's a bloody scary thing, seeing that little harpy with an arrow on the string -"

"Allan…"

" – So I would be perfectly justified in screaming, however, I did _not_. Screaming is something _maidens_ do – "

"HEY!"

" - and I am no maiden!"

"Allan a Dale, I most certainly do not scream!"

"Sioned, I've heard you. _You_ scream too."

"Shut up, William!"

"Someone's stressy."

"AND YOU, ALLAN!"

Allan winced, cowering – Not that he ever cowered. Especially not from a woman – from the filthy look Sioned was shooting in his direction. And _this_ was why they didn't go to Loxley. Gisborne, his guards – oh, and the little matter of that _hellcat_ daughter of Thornton's.

It was really not making him feeling any better that the knife Sioned was using to cut the bread was very long, very sharp, and very much in Sioned's hands.

How, exactly, had Will managed to survive growing up with the woman?

The young man in question hadn't even batted an eyelid at Sioned's angry outburst, choosing instead to carry on filching a bread roll from the batch that were resting on the kitchen table – how the man even dared to steal anything from under Sioned's nose proved to Allan that Will Scarlett was indeed the bravest of the Sherwood Gang – and shake his head, "Where's your father, Sioned?" He asked, reverting back to the main reason why they had arrived.

"Just overseeing some village matters; he'll be out in a moment." Sioned set the bread knife down, to Allan's eternal gratitude, and turned around, "Of course, if either of you two had any _sense_, you'd be long gone by that time."

"We did actually have some business with Thornton, Sioned, this isn't just a social call."

Sioned's eyes narrowed, "The last time you came here, William Scarlett – "

"Calling you by your full-name; you're in big trouble, Will."

"_The last time you came_," The young woman's loud voice overrode Allan's, "A guard saw you talking to my father; now, while you got to disappear back into Sherwood Forest, _he_ got interrogated something awful about conversing with a suspicious looking character!"

"Will, suspicious-looking?" Eyes innocently widened, Allan ruffled Will's dark hair, causing the younger lad to grin. The two young men's faces were perfectly angelic, "Surely not!"

A lesser girl would have fairly swooned at the sight of Allan's cheeky grin, the sight of Will's blue eyes dancing merrily.

A lesser girl, Sioned was not.

It's always the same," She muttered through gritted teeth, "You're so bloody arrogant - "

"_I'm_ arrogant?"

Allan closed his eyes wearily. This could go on for a while.

"You think nothing else matters, as long as you try and play the hero - "

"Oh, so it's alright for precious Master Robin to do what's right, but heaven forbid -"

"HE'S ACTUALLY CAREFUL, whereas you endanger others, you don't _care_ who you hurt, you just run off to the forest without _caring_ about who else -"

"What's the difference between what we do?"

"You got your little brother hanged, you complete - "

"ENOUGH!"

The pair of them glowered furiously at each other, both slightly startled by Allan's outburst. Will's eyes were flashing dangerously at the mention of Luke; Sioned's chest was rising and falling rapidly from the effort of shouting back at him.

"Alright," She finally forced through gritted teeth, "I am going to turn around and put this bread away, and when I turn back, the pair of you had better be out of my kitchen," Allan and Will exchanged glance, "you understand?" Allan, not to be outdone by his best friend, had withdrawn his hand from his pocket and was slowly inching it towards the bread rolls, "That gives you roughly five seconds," She hadn't even noticed – really, it was so easy.. "so I suggest," It was almost there, just a few more inches, "that you had better," Triumphantly, his fingers enclosed around the nearest roll, "get mov – ALLAN!"

"OW!"

The flat side of the knife had come down sharply on to Allan's knuckles, and he let out a yelp and withdrew his hand – still defiantly clutching the bread roll, he brought it defensively to his chest, "I'm hungry!" He protested.

One hand on her hip, Sioned shot Allan her 'defy-me-and-_perish_-puny-mortal' look, before flinging out one hand, pointing to the door, "Out."

Will rolled his eyes, taking a defiant bite out of his own roll, "Someone's in a bad mood today, even for a mad, hell-bent harpy."

The arms were folded. Definitely not in a good mood, "Rich, coming from an idealistic, irresponsible idiot."

For a moment there was obviously an inner turmoil within Will, whether to stick his tongue out at the girl or not. Finally, he decided to roll his eyes, taking another obvious bite from the bread roll, "Fine! We'll be going, right this very… Allan?"

Allan was leaning on his tiptoes to see over Will's head, eyes widening slightly. His attention had been somewhat distracted by the pretty Hannah Thornton slipping in through the door, clutching what looked like a very appetising apple pie to her chest. It was hard to say which was attracting Allan's attention more, the girl or the pie. Sioned rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to slicing the bread, with somewhat more vigour than she had previously done.

"Allan – the _main_ reason we're here?"

He nodded distractedly, eyes alighting as Hannah set the pie down on the kitchen table, before moving off, "But…but I'm _hungry_!"

"And starting to sound like Much."

Allan rolled his eyes, before nudging Will in the stomach impatiently. The younger man's own resolve was starting to waver – they'd set out that morning with no breakfast, and he _was_ hungry – plus he'd tasted Hannah Thornton's cooking before, and that was enough to make any man hungry, whether he'd eaten before or not.

"We shouldn't, should we?"

"No, we shouldn't."

"But we're going to, aren't we?"

"How can we not?"

A few seconds later, several things happened at once. Will moved forward surreptitiously to move the pie off the table, at the exact same time as Allan, who was trying to steal the food not so much subtly as quickly, _leapt_ forward, hand outstretched, causing the two outlaw's skulls to bash together with an almighty CRACK. This in itself would not have been so bad if Sioned hadn't turned around, suspicious of the lack of snide comments from Will, just in time to see both boys dive for the table.

"Hey!"

"OW!"

Both boys decided at the same time that their hunger was more deserving than the other's, and there was a brief tussle for the offending food item. Will, who had the advantage of being closer to the table (and the fact that he'd tasted Hannah's cooking before, and knew what he was getting), managed to wrestle the pie out of Allan's hands, only to discover than now he had to deal with both an irritable Sioned and a hungry Allan with a headache. He briefly debated with the idea of thrusting the pie back at Allan, then decided that discretion _was_ the better part of valour, and ran for it.

It was a pity the kitchen had little in the way of running space.

It made quite an interesting picture, Allan chasing Will around the kitchen table, uttering curses loud enough to be heard all over the servants quarters, while Hannah was almost doubled up and shrieking with laughter, and Sioned was watching the entire affair with a reluctant smile on her face, carefully hidden by her sleeve. Privately, Allan was actually enjoying himself. After the hell they'd been through, after Marian 'dying' and having to fight for their lives and almost leaving for Scarborough, it was good just to unwind by trying to lynch his best friend. Yes, no doubt about it, this was a good –

A horribly familiar voice echoed angrily through the hallways.

"What in God's name is going on down there?"

Gisborne had no sense of humour, Allan thought, as Will abruptly stopped dead in his tracks. Inevitably, Allan managed to stop two seconds later, their heads colliding again for the second time in two minutes.

"Owwww - Will? _Hide_?!"

Just as the door burst open, Allan grabbed Will by the scruff of the neck and pulled him, pie and all, under the kitchen table, the tablecloth carefully hiding the fact that there were two extra figures where they shouldn't have been. Sioned and Hannah both whipped around in time to see Guy of Gisborne, his face twisted into more of a scowl than he usually wore, storm into the kitchens. Hannah shrank slightly behind her younger cousin, whose bravado stood up to anything – save her rather irritable employer.

"My lord?" Sioned's look of sullen defiance did not quite manage to conceal knee-knocking terror.

If looks could kill, the two girls would have been dead and buried by that point. Gisborne shot the pair a glower that would rival Sioned's, "I employ you to run my kitchen, not to shriek like a pair of harpies."

If she hadn't been quite so terrified for her life, Sioned would have folded her arms at the word _harpies_, "Yes, my lord. It won't happen again…" Sioned's attention wavered slightly as Hannah started giggling again, "Promise!"

The glower was replaced with a withering glare, "A pair of frivolous girls," Gisborne muttered disparagingly, "The pair of you had better snap out of it; or we'll see how funny you find the Sheriff's visit on Tuesday, understood?"

A pair of heads bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

Allan's head slowly appeared from under the table as Gisborne slammed the door shut on his way out, the draping tablecloth making him look vaguely nun-esque, "Well, he's a charmer, isn't he? A right bloody…Tuesday?"

Sioned frowned, "We hadn't heard anything about that before. Have you?"

As he stood up, stretching slightly, Allan's face split into a broad grin, "We've been sneaking around, trying to find information for almost a week now, and Little Miss Thundercloud got what we need in five seconds flat!" As Will clambered out behind him, Allan grabbed Sioned by the shoulders and placed a kiss on her cheek, to the girl's bewilderment and slight shock, "I knew there was a reason you exist!"

Quiet, but romantically-minded Hannah flung a sharp glance around her to observe her fellows' expressions. Allan's: clownish, cheerful. Sioned's: torn between amusement and irritation. Will's: utterly unreadable.

A slightly flustered Sioned flapped Allan away, pointing to the kitchen door, "Out."

----

Robin tethered his horse a few yards away from Knighton Hall before slipping through the undergrowth towards the house, the dim morning light just showing the outlaw's outline. Much had threatened to sit on him, set Little John on him, tie him to a tree and knock him out (in that order) if he put himself in danger again so close to the Fake King Incident, but even his best friend's pleads hadn't bothered him – after a week, he couldn't help it, he had too see Marian again. Not only was the Smile resolutely still in place, but he was beginning to dream about her too. A _lot_. The fact that he was murmuring her name in his sleep added to the fact that he was apparently still smiling in his sleep had provoked even more unsavoury comments from Allan.

Really, he was doing this for his own good. His own health. After all, it couldn't be healthy to think about one woman for such a long period of time each day, could it? Not to mention the fact that whenever he thought about her, his stomach would flip over pleasantly – and as a result of that, he was finding it difficult to eat. So it was for his own health.

He just didn't think Much would see it that way. Which was why he'd dosed his friend's water skin with a healthy splash of poppy juice. Much would be fine – once he woke up.

Chuckling about his prank, Robin approached Marian's window covertly, sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling sharply. It had been a sort of tradition between the two, ever since he'd discovered – at the age of nine – how easy it was to climb up to Marian's window, for them to meet and talk this way. As he expected, in a few moments, Marian appeared at the window, bleary-eyed and with tousled hair.

"What do you want?" The young woman called down, attempting to look stern. The effect was ruined somewhat by the smile playing around her mouth.

Robin's eyes widened innocently, a straight contrast to the wicked grin spread across his face, "Just to talk!"

Marian shot him a very stern look, one hand on her hip, the smile turning into a slight smirk, "Robin Hood, I think I know you better than anyone in Nottingham, and I _know_ that talking's the last thing on your mind."

"Can I still come up?"

Without waiting for an answer, Robin jumped up, catching the bar hanging below her window gracefully, before pulling himself up and scrambling onto the roof below, linking his fingers easily with hers. She didn't pull away. Robin resisted the urge to cheer.

"How is your father? I suppose almost being assassinated by a sadistic maniac would unnerve you slightly…" He asked politely, inwardly crowing with triumph. Ha…and Allan had said that he wouldn't be able to wait for five minutes within seeing Marian before conducting some severely inappropriate behaviour – and he'd proved him wrong. Now that was triumph for you…

The mischievous smile that was dancing over Marian's lips was looking so inviting though…Robin had to grab the window shutters to stop himself from leaning in to steal a kiss from her.

"He is much better for you having rescued him," Marian said earnestly, the gratitude plain in her voice, before it was tinged with teasing, "But I'm guessing that you didn't just come here to talk about my father." Her fingertips brushed against the inside of his palm, sending a shiver all the way down his spine.

There was only so much one man could be expected to take…Cupping Marian's face gently with his free hand (and almost overbalancing in the process), Robin leaned up to kiss her softly on the lips…a kiss which quickly grew more overpowering as it intensified. And Marian did not pull away – instead of the last time he had tried to kiss her on this very spot, she responded in a _very_ delicious way. And he liked that. A _lot_.

He could have shouted for joy.

A while later, Marian finally pulled back, taking hold of Robin's fingers from where they had been entangling themselves in her hair and pulling them away, "Robin Hood, _was_ there anything you wished to discuss with me, or are you just set upon ruining my reputation _and_ endangering my life in one fell swoop?"

Robin managed a very inarticulate moan as Marian pulled away, privately thinking that Marian's reputation was a small price to pay in order to carry on with their previous activity. Thinking quickly to fabricate any possible excuse for why he was here, he remembered his last visit to Loxley, "Apparently Gisborne is devising yet another plan to see me on the scaffold," He said carelessly, "But my men and I have yet to discover anything – you haven't heard…?"

She shook her head, scowling slightly at the mention of her (former) fiancé, "I have no wish to go anywhere near Gisborne; besides, even if I did, my fist would probably connect rather swiftly with his face again. Don't smirk triumphantly," Marian interjected, and Robin attempted to force the grin of victory off his face, "Despite everything, I still feel sorry for the man. He _is_ pitiable, despite..."

"Everything else about his personality," Robin said bluntly, finishing off her sentence. The typical scowl of jealousy was slowly making its way across his mouth.

"Indeed, which is why I chose you, not him. So don't look so jealous."

"I'm not jealous!"

One of Marian's fingers nudged Robin's mouth into a smile, "So don't look it," Robin chuckled, and pulled himself up to stand on Marian's window-sill, looking cheekily down at her, "Anyway, I'll ask around at the castle and see what I can find out. Meanwhile, you lie low for a little bit, alright? Don't go asking for trouble, don't go annoying the Sheriff just because you can…And get off my window-sill, or my father will kill you."

"I can take care of myself!" Robin beamed innocently at Marian, which isn't easy when you're balancing on a window-sill, "Besides, your father likes me. And he went easy on me the last time; he won't mind!"

Marian folded her arms, "The last time my father caught you climbing up to my window, you were ten years old. I believe his perspective may have altered slightly."

He pouted mischievously, before swinging back down to his original position, leaning his arms on the sill and resting his head on his arms, blinking up at her. Who would have thought that a life could change so much with one punch and one kiss? Both delivered by the same woman, no less…Chuckling slightly at Marian's orders for him to 'lay low', he chucked her under the chin, albeit slightly condescendingly, knowing that he would not be able to do that for more than a few days at least…and knowing that she knew it too.

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Marian," He remonstrated her teasingly, "We both know full well that I will find it physically impossible to 'lay low' from the Sheriff and Gisborne when there's plenty of mischief to be wrecked…"

"Robin, _no_."

Startled by her sharp tone of voice, Robin frowned slightly as Marian grabbed his wrist, "You can't go placing yourself in danger just because you want to annoy the Sheriff, not after everything that has happened! It only takes one mistake on your part, and unlike them, who can start again, you can't afford to make a mistake. And after all that has happened, if I lost you…" Her blue eyes dropped their gaze, and she stared fiercely at the trees opposite her window.

Sighing, Robin scrambled up to sit on the window sill, tilting her head up so she couldn't look away. Marian was right – although he was not prepared to admit it – now that they had finally gotten their act together, he did have a certain responsibility towards her. And not just for Marian's benefit either – although Heaven was bound to be a beautiful place, it would be nothing without her…

"Marian, look at me. I'll keep myself safe, alright? _Trust me_. And if you cannot trust me, trust Much, because he's been waiting for us to sort ourselves out since we returned from the Holy Land, and if I messed it up by doing something stupid like dying, he'd never forgive me. So I imagine he will be keeping a sharp – well, a _sharper_ eye on me. But don't worry. Alright?"

Marian nodded, attempting a watery smile in Robin's direction, "You'd never die Robin. You'd be too worried about Gisborne finally getting his hands on me to die."

"….True," Robin kissed her nose, ignoring the rolled eyes, "I'd better go. My men will be wondering where I am, and there'll only be so long they can cope with an anxious Much."

So saying, he swung himself down from the window-sill, disappearing from view. Marian watched until his head vanished down from her view point, raising an eyebrow when it reappeared, wearing a look of sheepish innocence, "…Marian?"

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose I could ask for another favour?"

She rolled her eyes, "What do you want now?"

Robin pulled himself up, leaning into the window and winding his arms around her shoulders persuasively, "One last kiss?"

As Marian smiled and leant her head upwards, complying, Robin pulled her closer, his stomach leaping again. Without a doubt; he was the luckiest man in the world.

* * *

**A/N:** I..._love_...Robin/Marian. And have done ever since the 'balcony scene' in Brothers in Arms. Severe cuteness overload there. Of course, starting to find Will and Sioned funny too. Oh, the joys of writing love/hate relationships..._ahem_.

Thankyous to: **MontyPythonFan** (Thanks!! Enjoy the next chappy!) **StargazingBasketCase** (uses Jedi Mind Tricks to get you to update Where is the next chapter of Unintended Consequences? hmm...Thanks very muchly! I agree, creating original characters without making them into MS/Gs's is pretty tricky - hope they're still good though! And yeah, we all love the Sheriff - want him locked in the nearest asylum, but still...) **PirateofSherwood** (Aww, thankyou! Allan's so funny to write...) **SadakoLemming** (OI! Levae my innocence alone, you! And I posted soon, so you have no excuses now!) **and TheviEnsofhIStorY** (Ta muchly! I have kept up the...slightly odd work)

Ok, all done now!! Read, reivew and eat chocolate. Especially review...I write well on reviews hint hint.


	4. Chapter 4: Friars and Feelings

**A/N:** How am I writing this so quickly? This is _me_! It's...astounding, to say the least...And scary.

Ahem. Ah well...

Friar Tuck!!!

Is in this chapter. Just thought you might like to know.

Yay.

Also in this chapter is attempted bird-genocide by Allan, and attempted Will-genocide by Sioned. Not to mention strange feelings about Sioned on Will's part which are _completely _platonic, thankyouverymuch...

...We think.

* * *

There were certain moments in the forest when you could find peace. Not many, it had to be said, but a few. That morning was one of them. Allan was quietly dozing in his bed, torn halfway between sleep and awake, just peering out at the camp through half-opened eyes. The rising sun was softly bathing the clearing in a golden light, the breeze was gently washing through the trees, enough to make the leaves dance, but no more. The rest of the gang were still well asleep – Robin was still smiling peacefully, his expression so relaxed and content (for once) that Allan couldn't find it within his heart to make a joke. Little John was, for once, looking harmless, his staff still propped against him in sleep, and Much was mumbling quietly to himself, nestled into a pile of leaves and looking like a baby bird in its nest. Djaq's dark hair was barely visible from under her cloak, the rest of her completely submerged in blankets. Will was sprawled out next to the fire, his face almost buried into the grass, looking near-unconscious but still peaceful. Allan smiled lazily at his friends and closed his eyes, ready to get a few more minutes sleep. Utter stillness seemed to be in the forest, as if nothing else was moving in the whole of England. Without a doubt, these were the moments he cherished, when there was peace, rest and utter silence…

A loud, shrill twitter ripped through the air like a very unwelcome arrow.

Allan leapt up from his makeshift bed, manically flinging his belongings aside until he managed to find his bow, before setting an arrow on the string and aiming it into the tree-tops, "That does it! That bird has sung its last early morning song!"

"Allan, leave it alone!" Djaq's annoyed voice came from under her blanket.

The young man scowled, lowering the bow reluctantly. He couldn't help shooting one last furious look at the branches however – he was sure the incessant trilling had gained a certain smugness, "Little feathery git."

Sometimes the peace just wouldn't last.

Still looking sullen, Allan stomped over to the fireside, sitting down on Will's legs in the process and ignoring the indignant, if not muffled, yelp that came from the owner, "Any plans for today, Robin?"

Their leader opened his eyes, looking as though he'd much rather fall back to sleep and resume his dreams, "Not many," Robin yawned, staggering slowly to his feet and making his way reluctantly over to the fire, pausing to stop by Much and watch the younger man fondly for a second. Much had awoken at Allan's manic yell, but had chosen to pretend to be deeply asleep, his eyes tightly shut, "Much, wake up."

Much's only response was to mumbled something incoherent, rolling over and pulling his blanket over his head. Robin shook his head, still smiling affectionately to himself, before leaning down and taking him under the arms, hauling his quietly-protesting manservant to his feet.

"Just deliveries…Much, Djaq, you head into Nottingham, and pay special attention to how the baker's family are doing…John, you go to Bonchurch, Clun and Nettlestone…"

"Right," The big man rumbled, grabbing Allan by the shoulders and pulling him off Will, who was still desperately trying to regain his last few moments of sleep.

"Will, you visit Loxley…" There was a slight twinkle of mischief in Robin's eyes which quickly vanished, replaced by a look of utter sincerity and innocence. None of the gang were fooled for a second.

Will's head dropped from where it had sleepily risen at the sound of his name to back down on the ground, "Brilliant…"

"And Allan, you go to Knighton. Be careful not to be seen, will you?"

The outlaw made little effort to hide his surprise. He thought that Robin would have jumped at the chance to go to Knighton again – any possible chance to catch just a glance of Marian, or a few words. Smirking slightly, he remembered yesterday morning, when their leader had returned from Knighton Hall, with possibly the broadest smile he had seen stretching across his face. It hadn't taken much guessing as to where Robin had been, or who he had been talking to…even Much, who had woken up some hours later from his poppy-juice-induced sleep, hadn't had the heart to remonstrate with his master for the disappearance.

"Me? What about you?"

Robin shrugged, looking particularly disgruntled, "I have to keep my head down." _Marian's orders, probably_, Allan thought wickedly, permitting himself a smirk. The other man noticed the smirk, and raised an eyebrow, "Don't worry yourselves – I plan on keeping myself very busy."

--

Will stepped out of old Myfanwy's hut, the sweetbreads that she'd fairly _forced_ into his mouth resting pleasantly in his stomach, and pulled his hood up to cover his face, shooting a quick, darting look from left to right, wary of the soldiers that regularly patrolled Loxley village. After all the deliveries he'd made that day, it wouldn't do to end the morning on a high note by getting arrested. Satisfied that there was no-one looking in his direction, Will easily vaulted the fence that surrounded Myfanwy's tiny plot of land and rounded the corner of the hut, ready to head back home.

And rounded into two of Gisborne's men.

The larger one of the two, who managed to stand a head taller than Will, let his mouth break into a wide, satisfied grin, pushing the outlaw back up against the wall of the hut as he did so. Will scowled, resisting the urge to grab at the axe that hung down by his leg. Robin always told them to avoid fighting unless necessary, to never draw attention to themselves, to try and talk their way out of trouble, but that smirk on the guard's face was just making him itch to wipe it off. And he was never good at talking his way out of things – Allan had the gift of the gab, not him. Why bother? They were bound to come to blows sooner or later, he might just as well speed up the process….Will clenched his fists, grabbing two handfuls of his cloak in an attempt to curb his temper.

The smaller guard noticed the futile attempt and let his hand drift down casually to the sword at his side, "Where d'you think you're going?"

Will's face slid into a neutral expression, "Nowhere."

"Well, what's your business here?"

"Nothing."

"Who are you?" It was clear the solider was getting angry, the knuckles of the hand that gripped the sword were turning white.

Will smirked, perhaps a little unwisely, "No-one."

The larger guard, who up until now had let his companion do the talking, stepped forward, letting his broad hand seize around Will's neck, almost pulling him off his feet, "Looks like an outlaw to me," One sausage-like thumb dug deeply into Will's throat, searching for the leather strap that kept the distinctive tag hanging about his neck. Judging by the way the guard jabbed at him, he was in no hurry. Will coughed and spluttered for breath, cursing at himself for not taking the opportunity to fight sooner. He couldn't help grabbing at the guard's shoulder, while his other hand enclosed around the axe handle…

A slim hand took hold of the guard's wrist and pushed it aside with more force than should have been possessed in such a small body part. Before he had time to react, Sioned Thornton pushed herself in between the two men and the outlaw, her head held imperiously high. The small part of Will's brain that was not filled with surprise reminded himself that the Steward of the household had no authority over the soldiers in Gisborne's retinue, and so neither did Sioned. He vaguely wondered whether Sioned knew this.

"What exactly is going on here?"

The haughty, commanding tone made Will straighten up unconsciously before he had time to think. The two guards had pulled themselves up straight, looking uncomfortably dominated by the young woman in front of them. That voice would have made Richard the Lionheart himself drop to his knees before he realised who was speaking.

The smaller guard shifted anxiously, "Well…we saw this character lurking about here…suspicious looking fellow, so we thought…"

"Well?"

"Well…so, we figured we'd better stop him…part of our duty…"

"Part of your _duty_ is to go about the work that has been set for you, which was to guard the _stores_," Sioned instructed authoritatively. Even though he couldn't see her face, Will knew that she was shooting the men her most imperious glare, "After all, we know how many men would enjoy such a comfortable job as you have – and we all know how much the Lord Gisborne _hates_ shirkers who skive away from their _proper_ duties."

Will was vaguely aware that his jaw had gone slack.

The big guard was brave enough to look indignant, "We _were_ guarding the stores, but we saw him, and…we thought he was an outlaw!"

The resentful tone had been a mistake. Will almost felt sorry for the guards as Sioned raised her chin, hands now edging onto her hips, "Oh, you _thought_, did you? Seems to me you'd be much more suited to a post in the castle, where you'd be watching for _real_ outlaws – they're big on thinkers, they are."

Small Guard, who had more intelligence than Big Guard, looked as though he was rapidly thinking, the thoughts as clear as if they'd been displayed on a page. They said; this girl's father is steward to Lord Gisborne, and Lord Gisborne listens to his steward when he speaks, sometimes – not to mention he's been in a bad mood recently… "Well…well, we'd obviously made a mistake. He's just a traveller, obviously, just going about his daily business…how about we just get back to our duties?"

"I think that would be wise," Sioned replied coolly, her voice as hard as steel.

As the two men shuffled off awkwardly, Will made a valiant effort to look a little less astounded, unable to close his mouth completely. Although the appearance of Thornton's daughter had prompted the customary scowl onto his face, there was a part of him that had gone slowly numb by Sioned's haughty tone, only worsened by the fiery glare that she was now sending him. His stomach, which usually felt acidic by just being near the young woman, was now clenched and warm, as though a fire had been lit inside of him. It was a vaguely unsettling thought that at this moment, with golden sparks dancing in her grey eyes, her red hair tumbling down in unruly curls and, God in heaven, her mouth, now scowling intensely at him, Sioned Thornton was simply the most alluring young woman he'd seen.

"Still using all the muscles except the one that matters?" She asked coolly, distracting Will from the thoughts that were causing him quite some discomfort.

He shook his head, glad to be torn away from his musings, and folded his arms, "That was…how ever you managed to…"

Sioned tossed her hair back from her face, casting a glance back to Loxley Hall. There were several young men loitering back there, a few of them watching in their direction. Amongst the watchers were Sulien Thornton, the customary sneer on his face at seeing Will, and Phillip Bracey, a studious, quiet young man whose freckles, dark hair and soft features made his good looks more like that of a girl's. Next to him, and almost dwarfing him by comparison, Godwin Taylor stood, a young man as big and as blond as a lion, with the physique to match. The dark glare he was sending Will confirmed every piece of gossip that Much had intoned; Godwin had had his eye on the steward's daughter for quite some time, and the rebel outlaw's presence did _not_ seem to be appreciated.

Will was quite keen to get away from that intimidating glower. He was an outlaw, and as such could definitely hold his own in a fight; but the fact that Godwin Taylor was roughly the size of an ox didn't bolster his confidence. He leant forward, nudging Sioned lightly, "Can I have a word?"

Raising an eyebrow in mild surprise, Sioned walked further away from the watchful glower of her brother and his companions, leading the way down to stand by the village pond, before turning and shooting Will an inquisitive stare. He pulled his hood back down from his face, rubbing the sore spot where the guard's thumb had dug into his throat, "I need to know if you've heard any more about the Sheriff's plans."

Sioned scoffed lightly, "Was that all? No, of course I haven't. Gisborne plays his cards close to his chest as always. But I overheard Gisborne discussing a jousting tournament to be held in Nottingham with my father, if that is any interest to you. He might use it as a trap to catch Master Robin…"

A jousting tournament – with the inevitable archery and swordplay competitions that would surround the jousts. Will could feel the sinking feeling start in his stomach, along with the familiar leap that the promise of danger and adventure would bring. Robin would _love_ this….

"The Sheriff and Gisborne wouldn't use the same trick twice to catch him," Will mused aloud, thinking quickly, "But at the same time, the Sheriff wouldn't introduce a time for people to enjoy themselves unless he had a good reason for it. He must be planning something…"

"Evidently, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered to tell you."

Sioned's scathing tone made Will bristle slightly, the warm sensation in his stomach forgotten, "You have to keep listening for anything that might help us," He instructed brusquely.

"Have to? _Have_ to?" The young woman countered furiously, her back up at once, "I do not _have to_ help you with anything, William Scarlett. The only reason I chose to do this is because I know that some of you at least do a little bit of good."

"That, and an unrequited love for Robin from when you were eight."

Sioned's face flushed a horribly dark red, her eyes filling with sparks which Will found considerably less alluring, "That was a _long_ time ago," She hissed, "Unlike you, I have reasons for wanting to help _besides_ the fact that I'm still trying to make up for getting by baby brother _hanged_!"

The feeling in his stomach was definitely one of anger, embittered by the mention of his little brother. Fury pumping fiercely through his veins, Will could foresee that this could get very personal very quickly. He brushed off the feeling, his eyes flashing dangerously, and folded his arms, "No; your own motives are that you want to prove you're better than your brother; a feat you're nowhere near accomplishing!"

Sioned took in a gasp; he'd hit a sore spot. Her expression as dark as thunder, much like other times when he'd goaded her into snapping, but this time there was a real bitterness and fury beneath the anger. Before Will had a chance to react, she'd flung out both her hands and smashed them solidly into his shoulders, pushing him backwards –

And straight into the pond.

Will let out a yelp as the waters closed over his head for a second, before surfacing, spluttering indignantly and shaking his head like a dog to rid himself of the water now thoroughly lodged in his hair. Sioned shot him one last contemptuous glare, before hitching up her skirts and flouncing off, head held high, back to Loxley Hall. Will was sure he could see Godwin Taylor laughing, even from here.

There was another voice laughing at him, too. Will glowered up past the strand of duckweed that was hanging past his eye at Allan A Dale, who was chuckling merrily at his plight, before offering a hand to his best friend. Patting him warily on the back as the dripping outlaw clambered out of the pond, Allan couldn't help smirking, "Lawks, Will, you do know how to affect that girl, don't you?"

Will folded his arms sullenly, the sun's warm rays doing little to dry him off, "She's a harpy; pure and simple."

"Of course, it could be said that she knows how to affect you too," The older man added slyly, his voice fairly dripping with implications, "I was watching it all, Will, right from when those two lugs caught hold of you. And your reaction to Sioned's rescue attempt. I've seen poled oxen with less glazed expressions."

"Shut up."

"And your face could have roasted tonight's venison on it. Good thing she pushed you into the pond to cool you off," Allan easily dodged the blow that Will aimed at him and danced out of reach, "Come on, let's get you back home."

--

Robin whistled sharply as he kicked at the ground, hands deep in his pockets. Women, he decided, for the hundredth time today, were nothing but trouble. That little _After all that has happened, if I lost you…_trick of Marian's…he was sure that was just to spoil his fun. No fights, no taunting the Sheriff or Gisborne, no adventures – no fun. He scowled sullenly, jogging lightly from the path that wound through the forest down to the river. Marian was a spoilsport, plain and simple.

And he loved her for it.

Coming to rest at the river, Robin looked across at its depths, judging the distance carefully. It was no long distance, and the depth was not great (as they'd found out when Djaq had pushed Allan in), but the waters looked grey and cold, and he had little wish to freeze himself to death…He didn't even particularly have any business on the other side of the river, but he'd made up his mind to cross, purely just to do so, and when Robin Hood made up his mind to do something, he did it. Hands on hips and legs apart, the young outlaw cut an impressive figure as he stared out at the river, the wind blowing against him. Whistling sharply again, Robin's attention was caught by a hermitage built on the bank. A movement had attracted his eye; a friar, dressed in the brown robes that all friars wore, padding about around his home. He wasn't particularly tall, but powerfully built, with broad shoulders, strong arms and stout bearing; and the fair hair tinged with grey showed that he was about the same age as Little John.

As the friar ambled slowly down to the bank, where a small boat was moored, Robin ran down to meet him, hands up to signify friendship. He could hardly think that this friar, peaceful and harmless looking, would mind a simple young man – or so he seemed – approaching him, "If you are crossing the river, it would be good of you to ferry me across," Robin said pleasantly, smiling charmingly at the man.

"All in good time, my son!" The friar boomed genially, in a voice that seemed too large for him. As Robin scrambled aboard, the older man shot him a calculating look, before using a gigantic staff to pole the boat across.

The second that they'd reached the shore, the friar leapt on the bank swiftly, before pulling aside the great brown cloak that covered his robes, and unsheathed a huge broadsword that hung by his side. Taken aback by this turn of events, Robin, who had been stepping off the boat as the friar had turned, lost his footing in surprise, and toppled straight into the water.

"Now then," The friar announced, in the same good natured tones, "I ask for alms – as I did ferry you across, it is your due to deliver them to the Church!"

"I thought a man was only obligated to give alms by his conscience," Robin spluttered indignantly through a mouthful of water, still sitting in the river.

"Yes," Agreed the friar, "But a good priest is obliged to prick the conscience – which I will do with my staff and my sword – unless it is already awake!"

_If word ever gets out that I have had the better gotten of me by a friar_, Robin thought darkly as he struggled to his feet, _I shall never hear the end of it. And certain people will pay dearly for it…_

"Come and search my purse then," Robin called, his mind working quickly. The friar put down his staff, though still clutching the sword, and advanced quickly. As soon as he was within a few yards of him, however, Robin danced quickly to the left, sticking out his foot as he did so, and toppling the great friar straight into the water. As the tonsured head emerged, spluttering and dripping from water, Robin unsheathed his own sword, holding it warily at the man's throat. It was considered dishonourable indeed to bear arms towards a man of the cloth – but he had unsheathed his own sword first, Robin thought indignantly, and holy brothers were not permitted to carry weapons…

The friar, grinning at the chance to have some sport, drove his sword up and against Robin's own sword, cutting through the outlaw's thoughts. Standing aside to let the older man scramble to his feet, Robin fought back, grinning despite himself. The two fought in the river, the friar's weight and strength matched by Robin's agility and skill, neither trying to harm the other, but more for the sport than anything else.

Dodging and diving, the friar paused in his swordplay, chuckling to himself, "Give it up!" He laughed good-naturedly, "And admit, boy, that Friar Tuck is a fiercer, braver, and more skilled fighter than you are!"

Robin's only answer was to plough into the friar, using his entire body-weight to knock him into the river. Laughing, he bent over, hands resting on knees, and grinned at the man, "Robin Hood _never_ gives up. Truce," He panted exhaustedly, "I wish you no harm – truce."

Friar Tuck, who had not seemed at all surprised that the man he'd been fighting was the legendary Robin Hood, blinked wickedly up at him, his brown eyes dancing with mischief, "Neither did I," He conceded, "The money I gain from my conscience pricking go straight to the poor."

"Really? Well then, I…"

"_Master_!?!"

Grinning innocently, Robin turned around to see Much, Little John and Djaq struggling through the water, shocked expressions on each of their faces. Much was clearly fighting inwardly with himself as to whether or not he should deal with the man who had fought with his master or not.

Their leader held up a hand, "Peace, Much. This man is Friar Tuck," The friar nodded to the gang members, still chuckling weakly, "and he is a good man, from what I have seen of him."

"And a good fighter, from what I saw!" Much interrupted, looking at the friar with a mixture of suspicion and reverence.

"True. And from what I have seen, a fighter for the poor as well," Robin mused thoughtfully. Here was a man who seemed to hide the unexpected beneath a friar's cloak, a man who had fought fiercely to gain money for the poor…the beginnings of a thought was beginning to make their way into his mind.

The same thought seemed to be in Tuck's mind, "A bunch of outlaws _would _be in need of a holy man to administer to them..."

"John…would you say we were in need of a priest in the forest?"

Raising his bushy eyebrows, Little John studied Friar Tuck carefully, before nodding, "One who could best you in fighting, certainly."

"I was not bested!" Robin retorted, before turning to Much and Djaq, "Anyone else have a problem with a priest joining the gang?"

To Robin's surprise, Much turned to Djaq, looking anxiously at her, "Djaq, what do you think?"

Djaq shrugged, looking as taken aback as Robin was at Much's consideration, "I don't have a problem with it, provided he has no problem with me."

"That's settled then," Robin said, grinning, "Welcome to Sherwood, friar."

--

"I _hate_ him!" Sioned exploded, as soon as she'd stormed into the kitchen, "I..I hope he gets skewered on his own sword, or…or caught by the Sheriff and tortured, or _hung_, or ripped apart by the Sheriff's _dogs_, or…"

As soon as Sioned had broken off, trembling with fury, Hannah rushed forward to put her arms around her cousin, more to restrain than comfort, "I am sure Will doesn't mean you any harm, Sioned."

The younger girl looked incredulously at Hannah. Although she had a quiet intelligence, Hannah was far too swayed by the charm shown by the outlaws for her tastes. She folded her arms, feeling petulant. All those things he had to bring up, making her seem like a sulky child…she kicked at the ground angrily, leaning into Hannah's embrace.

"I hate him," She muttered, her anger dying into a dull burn. Blinking her eyes furiously in an attempt to rid herself of the childish tears gathering in her grey eyes, she sniffed sulkily.

"He is a good man," Hannah said, in what she thought to be a reassuring manner, "Will tries to help all those he finds in need, he fights for what he believes in, and he _is_ charming…"

"Oh stop it," Sioned snapped, knowing what direction this conversation was likely to head in if she didn't put a stop to hit, "I am not some simple-witted slut to be devastated by his 'charm', such as it is!"

"And he's handsome. In a different way to his friend, of course, but still handsome," Her cousin added mischievously, "I think you would make a fair match with him. I do believe I've mentioned it before….I know how your temper can mask other emotions..."

"Several times. Listen. Will Scarlett is in no way handsome. He is in no way charming. And I am in no way attracted to him."

Hannah Thornton let go of her cousin, smirking, "Just keep telling yourself that, Sioned."

* * *

**A/N: **I am so mean to my characters, aren't I? But it's fun. Very fun. And with the adventures the boys get into, you just know a preist'll be needed to administer the last rites...

Thankyous to: **meriamsherwood** (Thanks!! You're right, we do need more Robin/Marian moments in the series...Think I'm a bit young to write for the BBC though...It's an idea, I have to admit!) **PirateofSherwood** (Yay!! Allan does kick ass in the series, I have to say. Isn't much in this chappy though, sorry to say - I think he made his prescence know with the attempt on the bird's life though.) **StargazingBasketCase** (Eee, you're writing more!!! That last chapter of Nameless Feelings was _excellent_, by the way. You get the character's feelings just right. And if it makes you feel better, I squealed quite loudly when I saw you'd updated that, which made my dog look at me strangely...Thanks for the review! I do love the Ss...they're just making things more complicated for Allan and Will!) **MontyPythonFan** (There really is a shortage of Marian/Robin fanfic out there...there needs to be more!!) **TheviEnsofhIStorY** (Thanks! Erm...well, I think the last chapter may have answered your question...) **and RixxiSpooks** (They do! They really do! They're just being stubborn...)

Well, I spent most of the day on this, and my fingers are starting to hurt from typing...read, review and eat cookies!!


	5. Chapter 5: Danger and Denial

**A/N: **Holy heck, this is a long chapter. Bloody insomnia led me to write about ten pages last night at 2:30 AM. Oh, the sacrifices I make for you people...

Oh, and if this chapter is a bit wierd...don't blame me. Written at 2:30 AM, people!

And in this chapter is return of the awkward feelings, Marian...And the Sheriff and Gisborne return! Who are such fun to write. This is why I watch all of my RH DVDs back to back...to gain research, of course.

* * *

"I can't believe you let her push you into the pond." 

"Shut up."

"Thought you were a bit too old to be bathed, Will…"

"Shut up."

"You're dripping water everywhere."

"Shut up."

Will kept walking through the forest path, and stared straight ahead as Allan continued to jibe and tease him, preferring to wrap his fingers around his axe hilt instead of his best friend's neck. He was really starting to get sick of it – as fond as he was of Allan, the jibes were starting to get a little too repetitive for his liking. And it was only a matter of time before…

"Y'know, most blokes usually show their affection for a girl in ways other than driving her round the bend, but what ever works for you…"

"I do not like Sioned," Will forced through gritted teeth.

Allan scoffed disbelievingly, "Sure."

"I _don't_! No-one does! She's a bad-tempered, cynical, strict monster, and I really, _really_ hate her!"

"I think somebody has a crush on somebody," His best friend drawled, not even flinching from the fierce look that Will shot at him, "Oh please, every time you go to Loxley, you don't stop talking – complaining," He added hurriedly, "but talking all the same, about her! Why d'you try and irritate her so much if you don't?"

"I…I just…" Will gestured helplessly, unsure of the answer to that question, and not wanting to say 'I don't know'. Not wanting to see the triumphant smirk on Allan's face, he turned away, pretending to tighten the strap on his axe's scabbard, secretly fuming. This was so annoying – why couldn't he think of a good answer? But there wasn't really anything to say, he just enjoyed annoying Sioned, trying to prompt her into reacting – it was just a strange fascination he had with her that he couldn't quite place.

Will was smart enough to realize that saying this to Allan would not be a good idea.

Rounding the corner into the camp, the two young outlaws sped up to reach the others, the bright blaze of the fire crackling invitingly, "We're back!" Allan announced loudly, sitting down heavily next to Little John, "And…" He let out a yell of surprise as his blue eyes rested on a large friar sat next to Robin, "Who's that?"

Robin held up a calming hand, "Allan, relax. This is Friar Tuck – he's one of us."

"One of us?" Allan repeated as both the young men took in the friar's wide girth, "He looks like three of us!"

Djaq's foot came into sharp contact with Allan's ankle.

"_Anyway_," Their leader said firmly, after shooting a reproachful glare at Allan, "Tuck, this is Allan A Dale and Will Scarlett. Boys, this is a man of the cloth. Be nice."

Tuck's eyes sparkled merrily for a moment, but he didn't say anything. Will noted the broad shoulders and stout bearing, and decided not to join in with his friend's mutterings, instead huddling nearer to the fire, attempting to get warm. As the others talked quietly, Will edged over to sit next to Robin, quietly telling the outlaw everything he'd found out from Sioned. He couldn't help closing his eyes wearily as Robin's smile broke out into a gleeful smirk, almost entranced by the idea of a tournament. Much, who had been conspicuously eavesdropping from the other side of the fire, shot Will a horrified look.

"Master…Master…surely not! We…we've _just_ escaped from certain…" Much trailed off into nervous laughter as Robin's smirk got broader, his eyes sparkling mischievously. Despite his reservations, Will couldn't help grinning broadly, Robin's enthusiasm catching. The manservant groaned, pulling his hat down over his eyes, "You're ridiculous. You really are."

"And proud of it," Robin announced loudly, ruffling the hair of his long-suffering best friend, "We shall have to find out what new scheme the Sheriff is planning – and what better way than to go to the tournament ourselves."

"How did I guess that would happen?"

"But for now," His voice overrode Much's groan, "We need to focus on the Sheriff's visit – coming up soon, as well…" Robin's voice trailed off as he took in Will's bedraggled appearance, the rest of the gang turning to notice, "An accident?"

Will looked quickly from Robin's innocently interested expression, to Little John's raised eyebrows, to Djaq's broad grin, to Much's bemused frown, to Tuck's wide eyed look – to Allan's wicked smirk. He folded his arms, "An incident."

-0-0-0-

The dark haired outlaw patted Much sympathetically on the back as they hid in the shadows of the forest, looking out over the village. It was hard enough for any of the former Loxley residents to go back to their old village, seeing it ruled under such filth as Gisborne – to look, but never go fully back, but for Much…He always acted up when they returned. Will wasn't sure how Much could have survived in the Holy Lands for five years away from Loxley.

Allan whistled sharply, jumping down from the branch he'd been perched on, "All clear. You girls ready to go?"

The other two outlaws shot identically dark looks at the young man as they crept out into the village, hiding behind the huts as they kept their eyes open for guards. Will could just about see Robin and Djaq already crouching behind Loxley Hall, in position, while Little John and Tuck were just behind them. Of course, it didn't help that they didn't know _when_ the Sheriff was to arrive – but they were ready, and that was the main thing.

"Disgusting," Much muttered, looking relatively, "This used to be such a good place – then Gisborne gets his hands on it, and suddenly everyone's frightened to walk around."

Will nodded, the familiarly acidic feeling building up in his stomach as he remembered time under Gisborne's ruling at Loxley. The man had barely a shred of decency in him…his thoughts were interrupted by three figures walking quickly towards them, obviously completely unafraid to walk around. Philip Bracey was scrambling just behind Godwin and Sulien, who were heading towards the three with determined expressions on their faces.

Philip quickly pushed past the older pair, an attempt at grinning harmlessly failing miserably, "Much…Will, Allan," He nodded, raising a hand in shaky greeting, "I...I trust we find you well?"

Allan opened his mouth, probably to deliver a stinging retort, before Much elbowed him swiftly in the stomach, "Perfectly. I…I…._we_…hope you are all….well?"

The peacemakers of each group really were trying hard, Will thought sympathetically as both Philip and Much mumbled their way through a few courtesies. But the efforts were wasted…Both Allan and Sulien were glowering furiously at each other – and that look Godwin was shooting him was _definitely_ not friendly.

"Scarlett," Godwin cut in brusquely, and Philip stopped stuttering to place a warning hand on his friend's shoulder, which the young man knocked off easily, "Follow me – we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Will's life flashed rapidly before his eyes. It was far too short for his liking. This could _not_ end well.

"How's life in the forest treating you, Allan?" Sulien asked coolly, his thin lips stretching into a smile, as Will and Godwin moved off a little way, "It must be hard for you…all those long nights alone in the forest. I don't know how _you_ especially cope."

"How do you talk so well with no lips?" Allan demanded. Much grabbed the outlaw by his collar.

Will had managed to get five paces away from the others before Godwin flung out a broad, muscled arm to halt him, "I don't know what your game is, Will, but it ends now. Sioned doesn't need any runaway outlaw to get her into trouble – you stay _away _from her."

"What? What are you talking about? I'm not…I'm not…_close_ to her!"

Godwin folded his arms, effectively cutting him off. Inwardly, Will breathed a sigh of relief. Any more disbelieving ramblings, and he would have been in severe trouble, "Don't think I don't know you're lying to me," He said coldly, "I saw you the last time you were here; I could see the way you were looking at her. You love her, admit it!"

On second thoughts, maybe he would have preferred to ramble.

"I...you…_what_?" Will yelped indignantly, his voice a little higher than he would have preferred. That was…that was….Godwin was talking absolute rubbish…there was no way…

"Oi!" Allan snapped from where he'd been sniping at Sulien, "Why don't you let the girl make her own decisions, Godwin?"

Godwin's face darkened. Will's wasn't far behind, "There's no decision to make!"

"Damn right there isn't," Sulien snarled, walking over to stand next to Godwin, ignoring Philip's ineffectual protests, "I'm not having my sister go anywhere near a carpenter's son."

Will bristled, standing up straighter to glare at Sulien, his indignity at Godwin's accusations forgotten, "Oh, so you think I'm not good enough for your sister?" He retorted, before his brain realised what his mouth had just said. Allan was grinning, "Wait…I mean…" Now even Much was chuckling, "Oh, shut up."

By the thundercloud expressions on Sulien and Godwin's faces, the conversation was not going entirely according to plan. Will couldn't help feeling a surge of triumph, mixed in with irritation. What did they think he was going to do; confess his 'love' for Sioned and then promise to stay away from her in the same breath? A love which he definitely did not possess, by the way. And anyway, Sioned didn't need him to stay away from her – she seemed to get into quite enough trouble without his help. Seeing Godwin's flashing eyes made him decide not to voice that particular opinion.

"Look…" Much piped up, "We've all said what we want…we've got all this out in the open…we could all be on our way…." His stuttering trailed into nervous laughter as Sulien folded his arms, and the young outlaw backed further behind Allan.

Philip nodded, "He's right…for God's sake, Godwin, we've enough…"

"Pretty boy here just can't stand the thought of loosing to an outlaw," Allan interrupted sharply, squaring for a fight.

"There's nothing to lose!" Will snapped.

"And what sensible lass would choose a trouble-making, wanted man on the run?"

"…Is no-one listening to me?"

Will waved away Much's feeble protests and glared at Godwin, wanting to irritate the man even more, just to breaking point. Godwin's got no idea about being an outlaw, he thought bitterly, the stupid man – he's never stuck his neck out further than needed, "I think you two would be very happy together, Godwin," He said coolly, "You're gutless enough to give Sioned someone to protect, and she's pretty enough to bolster your ego even more than it already is."

A second later, Godwin's fist struck him squarely in the chest.

Will was quick and strong, and living with both Roy and Allan for a fair amount of time had taught him some of the dirtiest tricks in fighting, but the fact that Godwin had roughly the same amount of size and power as a cart evened out the fight somewhat considerably. Ignoring Much's yells of protest, and Allan egging him on, Will concentrated on not being flattened by Godwin, and brought his knee up sharply into the young man's gut, his jaw throbbing from one of Godwin's punches. It was all so much easier when you had a weapon to hand…Will shook his thoughts away from imagining the damage he could do to Godwin with five minutes and an axe.

And then a very familiar and _very_ annoyed voice interrupted all trails of thought.

"_What in God's name are you two doing_?"

Will and Godwin both sprang away from each other, by now both collapsed wearily on the ground. Sioned was standing above them, an expression of utter fury in her flashing eyes, hands on hips. Will resisted the urge to gulp, "Well?" She demanded, grabbing both of them by a shoulder each – Godwin winced, and Will permitted himself a small smirk of satisfaction. Sioned's fingers dug harder into his own shoulder as she pulled the pair of them to their feet, "I'm waiting for an explanation as to why the pair of you are acting like God just brought you into the world!"

An unspoken agreement between the two males to not say anything seemed to surface, "Nothing."

"Noth – _ow!"_ Sioned's hand left Will's shoulder and her fingers sharply grasped the tip of his ear – painfully. His knees buckled, "Really, _nothing_!"

"It was over a girl."

As one man, both Godwin and Will turned to glare furiously at Allan, who was looking as though he was enjoying him self far too much. _I am going to get you for this, A Dale_, Will tried to convey to the outlaw by glare alone, _I am going to **kill** you for this if it is the last. Thing. I. Do._

Allan's smirk made it clear that he understood perfectly.

"Well I _hope_," Sioned forced through gritted teeth, "That it was over a girl who meant a _lot_ to you both." Godwin nodded sullenly, at the same time as Will shook his head hurriedly. Sioned rolled her eyes, before glaring at Allan, Sulien, Philip and Much, "And why didn't any of you stop them?"

Allan spread his hands helplessly, "It was good entertainment!"

By the incensed snarl that left Sioned's mouth, this was not the answer she had been wanting to hear.

"What was going on?"

Will winced, halting in his attempts to squirm out of Sioned's grip on his ear, and looked round painfully at Robin, not wanting to see his leader's disappointed gaze. The whole point of these missions was to _not_ draw attention to themselves, to stay hidden, and Will was meant to be a natural at it. None of the guards had spotted them, although a few curious villagers were starting to depart from where they'd been staring avidly, but that was beside the point. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets, wincing with the movement, and stared at the ground.

Sioned rolled her eyes, finally letting go of both Godwin and Will, and turned to face Robin, whose attention had been attracted by the fight. Behind him, Djaq was a few paces behind and looking almost as angry as Sioned – he'd forgotten how annoyed the Saracen got at unnecessary violence which provided her with more wounds to clear up, "Will and Godwin," She muttered brusquely, "reverting to childhood. Philip, take Godwin home, will you?" Godwin looked as though he was going to object – _probably upset that Sioned isn't more sympathetic, _Will couldn't help thinking smugly – but stormed off with Sulien and Philip anyway, "Will, go sit down."

"I don't need – "

"_Sit down_."

Will obediently turned around and left the rest of the gang to shuffle off and sit down, leaning his back wearily against one of the surrounding trees. He wasn't going to admit that he was tired, not in front of Godwin, but all the same... Friar Tuck, an unreadable expression on his face, trundled past Sioned, who swept off towards Loxley Hall, and looked down at the young outlaw, arching an eyebrow. Will glowered defiantly back. Behind the friar, there was a loud shout of laughter from Sulien – and he had no doubt as two what the source of Sulien's merriment.

Tuck folded his arms forebodingly as Will tried to scramble to his feet, "The lass'll know if you head after them."

"So?" He snapped, "…I'm not scared of her."

He received a disbelieving snort as his only answer.

"Do you want me to sit on you? Stay still for one second, for pity's sake," came an irate voice as Sioned knelt down beside him, clutching a bag. She paused for a moment, halfway between opening it, "Philip and Much both say Godwin started the fight."

Will made a face, "Well, he did."

"_Physically_, at any rate," She grumbled, "I don't care to think about what you might have said to get him started, and I don't want to know. Shut up," Sioned held a hand up briskly as Will opened his mouth to protest, "Save it; I don't want to know. Just keep still for a moment." She brought out a small bag, wincing as she did so, and handed it to him. He winced at the heat, glaring at her, "Hot barley seeds, they'll relieve the pain. Just hold it to your head; he caught you well on that."

Not wanting to admit that Godwin's punches were still causing him a large amount of pain, Will held the hot bag of seeds to his head, reluctantly admitting to himself that they were soothing the headache he was feeling, "Thanks," He muttered grudgingly, "But I don't need anything else…I don't…Sioned!"

"Stop trying to murder each other, that's all the thanks I'll need. And for heaven's sake, shut up and accept your treatment," Sioned muttered, shooting a grim look up at Friar Tuck, who was hiding an ill-concealed smirk, "Is he this stubborn in the forest?"

The friar snorted, "I haven't had the pleasure of tending to the wounded in the forest just yet, miss, but from what I've seen…"

"I am _not_ stubborn, I am _not_ stubborn!"

"Sure," Sioned muttered, grinning slightly as she passed a wine skin over, "Wine. Drink it," She brought out a small pot, which she opened and rubbed her fingers into the mixture, "Arnica mixed with lard. Hold still," Before Will could protest, she'd grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and was gently daubing the stuff onto the bruises that were just coming through on his face with the other hand, her face a picture of utter concentration. At first he was too wary of the young woman to protest, then he decided he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Her fingers were bloody cold, Will couldn't help thinking, in comparison to his suddenly overwhelming body heat.. And soft, and surprisingly gentle, and…and...stuff. He swallowed, and tried to think of something else. Like grass. Or trees. Or…or their mission. Which was what they were here for. Not beating up Godwin. Or…or having Sioned's hands on him. Which were provoking certain…feelings. Which was making it really hard to concentrate. Which was what he was meant to be doing. Concentrating on the task at hand…which was their mission…yeah, the…Sioned…Bloody hell! Even a touch so simple as Sioned's was enough to drive him to distraction…very pleasurable distraction, but all the same…not that he was going to admit he enjoyed it…because he didn't…this was _not_ fair.

Sioned's finger found a particularly tender bruise on his cheekbone, and Will let out a stifled moan which he prayed fervently was prompted by pain and _nothing else_.

Tuck snickered, and Will shot him a furious glare, "It _hurt_." The friar nodded disbelievingly.

"Well, that's your face sorted out," Sioned interrupted, to Will's eternal gratitude, "But he caught you a good couple of times on the chest. Come on; shirt off."

Will's eyes widened, and he folded his arms sullenly, pulling his knees up to his chest. If he had that much trouble focussing when Sioned's hands were at his face, he really, _really_ didn't want to think about her hands at his chest. _Really_. He didn't.

"I think I'll stick with the pain, thanks."

Sioned rolled his eyes, thankfully not choosing to pursue the subject, "Fine. See if I care. Keep it and suffer."

"I will then!"

"Good! I hope it hurts!"

"It _does_!"

"Well, that's your own lookout, isn't it?" Sioned asked, nastily, "You shouldn't have started fighting with Godwin, should you? Or provoked him into fighting with you," She sighed, shaking her head and looking back towards the Taylor home, "He isn't as brave as you, Will."

For a moment he was sure he'd heard her wrong, "Pardon?"

"You heard me; he doesn't have the guts to stand up for what he believes in, whether what he believes in is right or not. Ergo, he isn't as brave as you. And maybe not as lucky either," Sioned's tone was so soft that Will was unsure whether or not the comment was meant to be directed at him; when he realised at was, his mouth twitched into a reluctant grin. Sioned look up and rolled her eyes at him, "Don't look so surprised. I'm a nice person," Will snorted disbelievingly, then ducked his head to avoid Sioned's dark glare. Grinning, he attempted to get to his feet, "Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Getting up."

**"**You are not," Sioned retorted, "Come on now, drink the rest of the wine."

Will looked glumly at the rest of the wine, which had done little to relieve the pain. He was _not_ going to drink anything even remotely concerning alcohol, not when he was on the ground next to a young woman who was trying make him stay down – he wasn't Allan, for heaven's sakes! "I'm sick to death of that. And I'm sick to death of being bullied by you and that turniped faced friar."

"Hmph!" Tuck snorted blackly.

Sioned grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him downwards, effectively forcing his back onto the ground, "Now drink this!"

"You drink it!"

Tuck rolled his eyes, before lumbering over and sitting down heavily on Will's chest. The friar was _not_ light, "Pour it down his throat."

Grinning smugly, Sioned tipped the remainder of the wine down Will's throat – Will, who was too busy gasping for breath, didn't object. He was too busy being _flattened_. It was an utter relief when the friar eventually got up – he was _sure_ he'd heard about three ribs crack.

"Alright…Robin's probably waiting for you. Go on, get into more trouble," Sioned chided gently. Will massaged his ribs gingerly, before nodding and scrambling to his feet. Not looking back, he ran to catch up with Allan and Much, Friar Tuck just behind him.

Allan clapped him on the back, making him wince, "Good fight. The little nurse sorted you out alright? How'd that go?"

Tuck smirked, "She wanted him to take off his shirt."

Despite Will's current discomfort, it was quite amusing to see the look on Allan's face; a mixture of amusement, surprise and envy that made the expression completely unreadable, "Really?"

"Shut up, it was because of my _injuries_."

Much looked innocently bewildered, to Will's utter relief, while Allan guffawed loudly. Friar Tuck nudged him conspiratorially, "Good thing the lass didn't find out about that knee to your crotch, hmm?"

Will went hot and cold, his face flushing bright red. Allan burst out laughing, and the youngest outlaw scowled, looking disbelievingly at Tuck, "How did you ever become a monk?"

-0-0-0-

"This is _perfect_. You are sure he will take the bait?" The Sheriff smirked, sitting back in Gisborne's high-backed chair. His second-in-command straightened up a bit, "And if Hood – "

"I am absolutely sure. My men will be on full-alert to make sure Hood and his men are caught if he rises to the bait, my Lord."

The older man let out a snort, "Oh yes? Like your men were on full-alert during the archery competition? And when we caught the Saracen boy – excuse me, Saracen _girl_? And when we were about to kill," He aped a Yorkshire accent, "_Royston Whaite_'s dear old mum? Remind me, how many times have we managed to catch Hood so far?"

Gisborne gritted his teeth, and Vasey smirked slightly. He wasn't sure which he found more enjoyable – needling Gisborne, or annoying Hood on the rare occasions he actually had him in his power. True, Hood fought back, which made it more challenging, but…Smirking broadly now, he propped his feet up on Gisborne's desk in front of him, watching Gisborne's face carefully.

A muscle in Gisborne's neck twitched.

Oh yes. He was getting to him.

"I assure you, if Hood dares to show up, he will be caught."

"You'd better be right," Edging one shoed foot closer to a pile of parchment on the desk, he watched Gisborne restrain himself from starting forward, "I don't want anyone finding out about this, you understand, Gisborne? That's why I came here. None of your men, not dear old Marian, not your Steward – no-one."

That was true…the only reason he was going anywhere near these bloody, whiny villagers was to make sure that everything went according to plan. That Gisborne didn't mess up again. Eyes scanning lazily around the room Gisborne used as a study, the Sheriff was confident that they were the only ones there – almost. Maybe dealing with Hood for so long was making him paranoid, but there was almost the sensation of listening ears at the windows.

Was that a movement of a dark brown head just out the window?

Gisborne, who had gritted his teeth at the mention of _dear, sweet_ Marian, nodded, "No-one shall find out about this, my Lord. As for…the other matter?"

Vasey shook himself away from staring fixatedly at the shadows by the fireplace, where he had been studying the shapes of the shadows carefully – he was sure he'd seen the outline of a staff – and smirked, nudging the parchment with his shoe. Gisborne scowled, "Ah yes. We will wait until after the tournament until that little enterprise, Gisborne – provided, of course, you have the guts to go through with it."

"I do, my Lord."

"Good. Should turn out to be an interesting experiment," Chuckling, his foot twitched slightly, pushing the parchment straight off the desk. Gisborne tensed, before hurrying forward to pick it up, "Whoops. Clumsy me…"

Oh, these were the moments he lived for. Seeing Gisborne's irked expression was reward enough for coming out here.

"It should, my Lord," Gisborne forced through gritted teeth.

"Indeed…let's see how Hood and his men manage to cope in that cold, dark forest with a heartbreak and nothing to cure it…nothing even their Saracen whore would come up with…"

He broke off as an incensed, furious yell came out from under the window. There was the sounds of a brief scuffle as he leapt up from the chair…a _horribly_ familiar voice… "Much, _no_!"

"You heard what he said!"

"Yes, but – "

He knew that voice…

"GUARDS! _GUARDS!_"

-0-0-0-

Sioned bent over board, carefully chopping up vegetables for tonight's dinner, although her mind was most definitely not on the vegetables. This wasn't good for a number of reasons, the first of which being that she'd almost sliced her fingers open several times, and was now getting blood all over the carrots.

But still. She was finding it very, _very_ hard to concentrate. Even the knowledge that right now the Sheriff was discussing God-knew what with Gisborne in his study at that very moment, and it was an ideal time for eavesdropping.

_Even_ that. Because all she could think about was running back to find Will and checking up that he was alright.

Erm…because she wanted to find out how much damage had been done. Because she was hoping that Godwin had done some serious damage to him. That was it. It wasn't because she had been enjoying treating all those bruises. Definitely not. Because that would have been wrong. Very wrong. As to be almost as ridiculous as something that Hannah might have said. Because she _hadn't_ enjoyed it. She hadn't enjoyed the feel of Will's skin underneath hers, or the quiet moan he'd made when her fingers had found one of the bruises, or that strange way that every single part of her was trying to make her realise that she desperately needed to be so, _so_ much closer to—

Well.

That.

She hadn't enjoyed that.

It had been…

Disturbing.

Horrible.

And quite alarming.

She should have let him suffer.

…She hadn't _needed_ to be closer to Will, anyway. That was just…she was spending too much time around them, that was all. She was…she was just…a little under the weather…and thinking far too much about the last ten minutes.

It was almost a relief when Sioned's train of thought was broken off. The fact that it was the sound of steel against steel was not so. Setting down the knife, Sioned hitched up her skirts and ran on the nearest window, pulling herself up onto the windowsill, her mouth falling open. _They're mad_, she thought vaguely, _they really are quite mad_. The outlaws, Robin at their head, weren't running from the chasing guards, they were fighting them.

And looking as though they were having far too much fun.

They were just like little boys, Sioned couldn't help thinking as her mouth curved reluctantly into a smile, they really were. Robin was actually laughing as he fought, ducking and diving under the parries and blows of the nearest three guards, before sweeping two of them off balance with his Saracen bow. Much _did_ look like a little boy clutching a toy sword, his movements much more clumsy and childlike as he mimicked his master perfectly, knocking a guard that had been advancing on Robin over with his shield. Even the _friar_ was fighting, clutching a large staff to rival Little John's and cracking it over guard's skulls with ease. Completely forgetting the vegetables, Sioned leant her head against the window frame, watching with a faraway expression on her face as the outlaws fought. They were all so used to it, wielding their weapons with ease…even Will, who had been having the stuffing pummeled out of him not ten minutes ago, was easily fighting back-to-back with Allan, the two young men's movements easily corresponding with each other. She smirked as Will brought his foot up into a guard's stomach, driving him onto the ground. That was dirty fighting…what on earth had he learned in that forest?

And then Allan, neatly parrying a blow from a large mace, ducked round and saw her.

Sioned gasped, using words that her father would definitely not approve of, and fell straight off the windowsill, bashing her head in the process. She was sure she'd seen Allan's concentrated expression break into a grin.

Despite herself, she couldn't help smiling wryly as she heard Robin ordering his men to move out. They stole their way straight into your heart…

Sioned shook herself. Right. Vegetables. The real world calling.

-0-0-0-

Bloody outlaws.

Bloody Hood.

Bloody _Sheriff_.

Guy of Gisborne scowled sullenly as he moved away from the group of guards he'd been furiously disciplining to lean against the fence surrounding Loxley Hall, feeling sick. Hood had been within his grasp…he hadn't joined in the fighting, of course, choosing just to watch impassively, ignoring the Sheriff's unimpressed smirk. Hood had been so close…after everything the man had done, and he hadn't managed to get him.

Shooting a cold look over at Thornton and his two children, the latter of which were both conversing quietly and smirking – he had no doubts about what – he sighed, massaging his temples tiredly. He made it a point never to show weakness in front of his inferiors, but right now it was a close thing. Ever since the wedding – the almost wedding, as Vasey was constantly enjoying reminding him – he had been feeling more and more weary, the pit of anger that had been growing inside of him ever since Marian had run out almost eating away at him. But revenge was a dish best served cold, as he'd learnt from serving the Sheriff, and he was not going to let that dish be taken away from him. He sighed, and as he heard the steady sound of hoof-falls against the ground, he looked up – and his heart flipped over.

_Marian_.

Proud, straight backed, she rode at the edge of the forest, carefully avoiding looking in his direction. Gisborne cursed at himself for being so weak, for being so easily affected by her. She had run out of their wedding, he was sure her father was a traitor – and there were strong doubts about her own loyalty. She had run off to Nottingham, with the man who he loathed – although the Sheriff was not bothering to pursue down that road, finding it much more enjoyable to carry out his latest plan, they all knew that the outlaw and she had come to an…agreement. She was a traitor, and met with outlaws, he knew that. But he was still in love with her.

"Marian."

She looked up, her expression hovering somewhere between pity and revulsion. Gisborne wasn't sure which of those two emotions made him feel worse, "Sir Guy."

"You are going through the forest?" When Marian didn't answer, and turned her head instead, he knew that it must be true. _To see him_. His stomach clenched, "Marian, that is not wise. It isn't safe to go alone."

Marian sighed, dismounting and leading the horse over to face him, "I think I can handle myself, Sir Guy."

"I have no doubt of it," Despite the regret he felt that he had lost even her friendship, Gisborne still dipped his head towards her, smiling slightly, "In effort, but it is still not safe. Take one of my men, or at least a servant, to make sure you are not alone."

"I am perfectly…"

"Please, Marian," If the earnest tone of his voice surprised himself, it astounded Marian, and she paused, letting him speak, "Let me do this. Let me help protect you. Even…even if you do not…let me try and rebuild our friendship. Let me do this thing for you, as a friend."

There was a loud snort from the direction of Thornton's daughter, and he turned, frowning dangerously, to look at her. Her attention was suddenly focused on the sky.

He had an idea.

"Take Sioned!" He urged. For the first time in years, he felt a stab of true, good-natured happiness as the grin fell off Sioned's face. For the first time in so many years, he felt an amusement, not at the sorrow of others, but just at the look on her face. It felt good, surprisingly. Weak, but good, "She could do with the fresh air."

"What?! _Me_?"

Marian faltered, still stunned from the former earnestness of his last words, "I…if she does not mind…."

"She will not," Gisborne said, shooting a glare in the direction of Sioned, "Fetch your brother's horse, Sioned, and prepare to accompany the Lady Marian through the forest, _now_," As Sioned flounced off to do his bidding, Gisborne couldn't help feeling a small stab of satisfaction. Even now, he could rebuilt their friendship. Work his way up. Be there for Marian, in ways more than material this time, while Hood became more and more occupied with his outlawish business. Let her grow to like him, perhaps more, this time not because she was forced to, but because she wanted to. And then, when the time came…

She would be his.

-0-0-0-

Marian patted her horse reassuringly as he walked sedately along the forest path. Usually she would have prompted him into a run, longing to feel the breeze whip through her hair. But now, with the girl Sioned riding behind her, she couldn't. She would hardly be able to meet with Robin now, because of the girl's presence. Maybe that was why Guy had sent her.

No. That was unfair. He had seemed genuinely concerned…

Sighing with confusion, Marian's mouth curved into a smile as Sioned clicked her horse into a trot, urging him off the pathway of the forest and onto the banks and small hills that surrounded it, almost standing up in her stirrups to look around. She was probably bored, staying close enough to Marian that she couldn't be accused of leaving her 'post', and yet snatching what excitement she could. Just like she had done the first few times she had ridden next to her father in the forest…

Chuckling as a branch caught the girl on the side of her head, Marian looked around again, feeling anxious despite herself. It was getting dark…darker than she would have liked it to be when riding through the forest. Although it wasn't storming, or raining, the winds were gathering up…and there were other outlaws in the forest beside Robin's gang…ones that would not object to stealing from women.

"Sioned!" Marian called softly, picking up the pace to catch up with her young charge, "Stay close by me, and don't wander off. I don't want you getting hurt or lost."

Sioned frowned, "I'll be alright. I can look after myself – My lady."

"I do not doubt it, but there may be those who do. Trust me, and stay as close as you can."

The leaves rustled under foot as they made their way through the forest, Sioned starting to look warily around them, Marian's anxiety picking up by the minute. There was no need to worry, there was no need to worry…she could handle anything that she came across. That was the attitude Robin always had…

And look at all the scrapes he'd landed in.

"Almost there, Sioned," The noble woman whispered, most to reassure herself than the servant girl, "Almost…"

There was an almighty 'crack' as an overhanging branch snapped and fell down in front of them, causing Sioned to scream in alarm. Marian knew enough about Robin's outlaws to recognize the small things, like the inconspicuous rope that had been tied around the branch, or the fact that her horse had just walked over a pile of leaves that could well be used to hide a number of things – but that didn't stop Sioned's horse from bucking, the girl toppling down sharply from its back. _Foolish outlaws_, Marian thoughts grimly as Sioned landed awkwardly on the ground, one of her ankles at an odd angle, _when I get hold of Robin…_

And then a rough hand that definitely did not belong to Robin or one of his men slapped around her mouth and pulled her to the forest floor.

* * *

**A/N: **I wrote a cliffhanger! One that doesn't sound East Enders-ish! Be proud of me!!!

Ahem. I am sane. I am.

Many thanks to: **RixxiSpooks** (Thanks! Hopefully there'll be a new Friar Tuck in the next season. But for now, I'll just use my own, Cadfael-esque Friar. Though admittedly with a dirtier sense of humour than Cadfael. Maybe Cadfael/Friar Tuck from Prince of Theives...oh, what the heck) **StargazingBasketCase** (CHICKEN GISBORNE, BABY!_waves to Chicken Gisborne_. I loved that...It is not bad. It is good, it means that I am actually managing to write something effective. And yes, they would be cute. They love each other, deep, deep, deep...deeeep down. And yes, the pushing Will into a pond thing amused me. I think I should make Will pull her hair, or something that li'l kidish) **robinsangel92** (You shall find out more soon, my friend!)** and Pirateof Sherwood** (Whatever gave you that idea? Hehe...).

And done! Enjoy, review and eat chocolate, my friends!


	6. Chapter 6: Trees and Taunts

**A/N:** More bloody insomnia...which led to this chapter. My brain literally feels like it's trying to escape through my ears.

But at least there's another chapter for you!

Oh, the sacrifices I make...

* * *

Marian never thought she'd think this, but she was beginning to picture Robin in her mind's eye, with _yearning_. And quite frankly, she did not yearn. It wasn't one of those things she did.

There was no reason to think like this. She was independent, she did _not_ need Robin, or indeed any man, to get her out of trouble, there was _no_ reason _whatsoever_ for her to be desperately longing for the familiar cheeky grin, the familiar young man to come bursting out of those trees…she could handle this herself…

A low, angry growl escaped from her mouth as she strained ineffectually at the ropes binding her to the tree. Behind her, tied to the opposite side of the tree, she could hear a muffled yelp as Sioned attempted the same thing.

Bloody outlaws.

That trap had definitely been set by Robin's gang. Marian had recognised the work, the sly cunning that could only have belonged to the gang's leader and their master con-man coupled with the engineer's handiwork. Robin, Allan and Will. She was going to murder them. But the outlaws that had caught them, that were currently sitting around the fire, occasionally shooting them leering glances were definitely none of Robin's.

She couldn't help feeling slightly smug to know that, when the gang found out that these outlaws had stolen the prize that _their_ trap had caught, they would not be happy.

It was just a thought.

As a loud laugh went up from the fireside, she scowled, and strained at the ropes again.

Bloody, bloody outlaws.

-0-0-0-

"Have you _completely_ lost your mind, Much?"

Much had the grace to look embarrassed. There was definitely something wrong here. _He_ was meant to be the one lecturing _Robin_ for whatever misadventure he'd managed to get them all into. Not the other way around. Half-shrugging, he went on poking the fire absent-mindedly with a stick, hoping his master would get the hint.

He didn't.

"Our objective was to find out as much as we could, without letting the Sheriff and Gisborne know we were there, and instead…"

"We found out stuff!" Much muttered feebly.

"Vague hints and snippets of information, Much!" Robin retorted, not so much angry as exasperated, "And instead, you practically told them where we were, almost got yourself _killed_, and…I thought you were meant to be the cautious one!"

"You heard what he said about Djaq!"

The young Saracen woman, who was carefully staring into the fire, propped her head up on one hand to look up at Much, her expression careless, "I don't mind, Much…I'm the only woman in a band of idiotic men, people are bound to talk."

"Well, you should mind!" Much protested, "They shouldn't say those sorts of things about you!"

Robin groaned, clasping his hands behind his head as he paced around the fire, the darkness of the evening making the glowing flames appear brighter. He kicked at the ground, shooting Much a concerned look. Much couldn't really blame him. He _knew_ what he'd done had been daft, suicidal almost, and over a childish jibe from the Sheriff, who had called all of them far worse without such retribution, and yet… It had been to _Djaq_. You just…you didn't _call_ Djaq things like that.

"Much….if Djaq hadn't let it bother her, maybe you shouldn't either."

Much scowled, digging the stick into the fire until it crumbled into ashes and dropped into the flames. That was the point though, she _had_ been bothered by it. No-one else had noticed, as Friar Tuck and Robin had been too busy peering up at the window to look down, but he had, just in time to see the flash of pain pass over Djaq's face, see the brief well of emotion in her dark brown eyes…_That_ had made his stomach clench.

And he wasn't even sure why. That was unsettling…he attempting replaying the scene back in his mind, replacing Djaq's name with Marian, or Sioned…if the Sheriff had been talking about either of them, would he have reacted in such a way? He tried hard to will himself into anger, but failed miserably…sure, he would be annoyed, defensive for the girls' sake, but he could not feel the same rush of anger as he had done for Djaq… As a last desperate resort, he screwed up his face, finally replacing Djaq with Eve. If the Sheriff had been talking about her…but no. No rush of fury, no wanting to teach the little rat a lesson…

This was…odd. It was…well, it was _Djaq_. One of the lads. More of a _lad_ then he was, if he was truly honest…intelligent, prickly, capable Djaq. There was no reason why he should be any more protective of her than any of his other lass friends…was there?

There was only one possibly explanation. Robin had to be right. He had _completely_ lost his mind.

Letting out a yell of frustration as his manservant refused to open up, Robin cast a look up to the heavens, as if asking for strength, before shaking his head, moving off to talk with Will and Little John. Djaq took the opportunity to settle herself beside Much, picking up her own stick and tiredly poking the mess of crumbled ashes that had been Much's stick, "You're an idiot."

"Many people _have_ said so…most of them fools, but…."

Djaq's mouth curled up into a reluctant smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement at his words. It was a very arresting flattery, "You didn't have to do it."

Much shrugged helplessly, knowing that this was completely true. That was what had made it all so much more…odd, that one moment he'd been balancing precariously on a water-butt next to Djaq, laughing and joking with her as a friend (and almost falling into the water, thanks to a hearty slap on the back from Tuck), and the next minute had felt a rush of fury and disgust than had been almost overpowering – simply because the Sheriff had insulted her.

"He called you…well, you don't deserve to be called stuff like that," He ended weakly, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

This was silly. Djaq was _Djaq_. It was….well, _Djaq_. She was one of them. An incredibly alarming one of them admittedly, but still – apart from being a woman, Djaq _was_ one of the lads. He wouldn't be getting in such a state if he'd defended Allan or Will, now, would he? Except that would be daft, because Allan and Will could very well look after themselves…which begged the question; Did he think Djaq couldn't? Because he knew she was tough, and resilient, and certainly a stronger soul than he could say about others, but at the same time, he'd seen that spark of vulnerability in her and that had _hurt_. Physically. But…still…silly. Because it was Djaq. _Djaq_. Who looked and acted like a boy, and certainly seemed like a boy…

His cheerfully rambling thoughts were cut off rather sharply as Djaq bit her lip, then leant over and quickly kissed him on the cheek, before sitting down on the ground with a loud thud and busied herself with sharpening her knife, her darkened skin tinged slightly with a deep blush.

Much was sure his face was aflame. The cheek she had kissed certainly felt like it was burning… Well. It seemed almost painfully obvious to his newly awakened subconscious that Djaq was a woman…_painfully_ different. There were definitely certain…feelings bubbling up in his stomach and chest, and he pulled his knees sharply upwards to rest his chin against them, as if afraid they might escape.

Focussing his attention determinedly on the fire in front of him, he jumped in surprise as Allan came bursting through the trees into the camp, a broad grin on his face, "Robin!" The Southerner yelled, once he'd caught his breath, "Rob, the trap worked! 'N you will _not_ believe who we caught!"

"Who?"

Allan smirked, "Lady Marian and Sioned."

Robin's face lit up, a light dancing through his eyes, and the typical, devil-may-care, ne'er-do-well grin twitched onto his face. As one man, the rest of the gang winced as their leader grinned, "Really?"

"Yep. Saw them ride straight into it, then ran straight back here to tell you. Well, you wanted to see her, didn't you?"

Much looked from his master, whose impish grin was growing broader by the second, to Will, who looked as though Christmas had come early. To the youngest outlaw, the idea of his arch enemy caught by _his_ trap was probably like a birthday present, "Which one of them are you talking to, Allan?"

As Will scowled sullenly, Allan chuckled, "No comment."

-0-0-0-0-

"I _hate_ outlaws," Sioned muttered from the other side of the tree, ineffectually straining at the ropes, "I _hate_ every single, solitary one of them, I hope they all die a _painful_, _fiery_ death, and I hope they all go straight to Hell…."

Marian's lips twitched as the young girl's mutters continued to pour out from her mouth, expletives and curses continuously punctuating the furious oaths from the far side of the tree. Even tied to a tree, and sporting what Marian suspected to be a sprained ankle, Sioned Thornton could still curse like a sailor in full-swing.

Her amusement faded as the main outlaw, who was roughly the same height and girth as Robin – though definitely not as handsome, she mused, and then flushed darkly, approached them. He did not look incredibly malicious or triumphant, per say, but equally so did not look as though he was about to let them go any time soon. Marian began to wish she had not left her sword at Knighton, "Apologies for this intrusion, milady," He said graciously, "But your father would gladly pay a ransom for your return…and times are hard….You must understand."

She forced a smile onto her face, "Of course I do," Ignoring the indignant yell of '_What?!_' from Sioned, who clearly did _not_ understand, she lifted her chin coolly, "But _you_ must understand that neither my father or I am accustomed to suffering outlaws gladly, and neither he nor I shall meet any of your demands."

"I shouldn't say that, my lady," The outlaw conceded, leaning a hand against the tree, "But the nights are cold in these parts…and we could come to some…arrangement. If you or your maid would remain here, we might come to free the other," Two other outlaws moved to stand close to an indignant Sioned, while the outlaw leader bent down so his face as level with Marian's, "What d'you say, my lady?"

"_What_? Lady Marian!"

"How _dare_ you – "

As the two girls yelled simultaneously, there was a brief moment of silence, and then the air was split with the distinct sound of a bowstrings being drawn and let lose. The outlaw leader rapidly drew back, seconds before an arrow sped through the air his head had been occupying mere milliseconds before. It came to a quivering halt, imbedded in the tree next to Marian's neck, who was frozen in place. Meanwhile, two arrows came shooting out of nowhere, aiming for the feet of the men near Sioned. One of them stumbled out of the way in time, whilst the other was not so lucky – Sioned let out an indiscernible squeak as the man yelled, an arrow caught in the back of his ankle.

"Everybody still, if you please!"

That was a recognisable voice. Marian's mouth twisted into what she hoped was an unimpressed scowl as the tree surrounding the clearing suddenly became alive with falling figures, Sherwood's finest swinging themselves down from the branches they'd been perched in. Much made a rather undignified descent as he landed awkwardly on his knees. Huffing darkly, he glared at the smirking outlaw leader and aimed his bow in the man's direction, who suddenly didn't seem to find it so funny anymore.

Allan looked indignant as he approached the tree, shoving the injured outlaw out of the way, "They stole our prize! That was _our_ trap that caught them!"

"Your _prize_?! Listen, you little…"

Waving away Sioned's insulted splutters, Robin smirked as he leaned on his bow, signalling to Little John, "John; escort these gentlemen to their fireside and keep them there," The outlaws looked as if they would disagree with Robin's orders, then saw Little John's staff brandished menacingly. They couldn't get to the fire fast enough.

Chuckling, Robin turned back to Marian, leaning his hand against the tree in a parody of how the outlaw leader had been standing, "You should be careful when you travel through the forest so late at night, Marian. There are some objectionable characters on the road, you know."

Marian let out an incensed growl, "Let me loose."

Robin folded his arms, letting his body fall against the tree lazily instead. Of course, this just brought him in closer proximity with her own body. She was sure he'd planned it, "Well, that's not very polite, is it? After saving you from these outlaws…"

"_Robin…_"

"I _could_ have just let you stay stuck here…"

"_Robin. Hood. Let. Me. Loose._"

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Robin pulled the short dagger out from his belt and cut swiftly through the ropes that bound Marian to the tree. Having been trussed up in the same position for an hour or so, the ropes had stiffened Marian's joints, and she fell forward clumsily, coming to land in the outlaw's arms. Grimacing, and trying to ignore the blood racing through her veins, she reluctantly looked up at Robin, prepared for the mischievous, ne'er-do-well smirk on his face.

She wasn't disappointed.

"Well, Marian," Robin said, in a low voice that made her spine tingle, "If you wanted me to yourself, you only had to ask."

Well, wasn't this just brilliant. This was the worst position she could find herself in – never mind the most compromising. In the middle of Sherwood Forest, in the middle of the evening, in the middle of an outlaw camp – in the arms of Robin Hood. And she wasn't even enjoying it.

She _wasn't_.

Not in the slightest.

Really.

Sensing her discomfort, Much coughed awkwardly, making a brisk movement with his hand and signalling Djaq and Will to move around the other side of the tree where Sioned was still bound. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful for Much's thoughtfulness or annoyed that now she had to deal with a very smug looking Robin.

"Missed me?"

Marian rolled her eyes, "_No_," She retorted, trying to convince herself more than Robin. Indeed, he didn't seem to believe her in the slightest, "Just because you believe that everything concerns you does not mean I spend every waking mom – "

"You talk too much, Marian," Robin interrupted, and then silenced her quite effectively by embracing her, their lips meeting in a kiss that crushed the air from her body. For a few seconds the world went away as she wound her arms tightly around Robin's neck, not wanting to release him. Judging by the strength of his grip, or the fierce hunger with which he was kissing her, Robin did not seem to want to release her, either. Marian was deprived of all rational thought, her head spinning fiercely…

"Oi! I'm not bein' funny, but shouldn't the conception of your first child be a private affair?"

Robin let out a frustrated growl in the back of his throat and gently released Marian, before turning to glower at Allan, who was smirking quite unconcernedly in the background, "Shouldn't you be releasing Sioned?"

Allan shot a reluctant look down at the fuming maid, "Really?"

"It seems such a shame…." Will continued, a very un-Will-ish smirk dancing around his lips as he leant against the tree, just out of Sioned's reach, "She's being so calm….we could leave her here all night."

The young man had a slightly devilish side that was only revealed around Sioned, Robin decided as he led Marian around to Sioned's side of the tree. Wondering absent-mindedly if the young women in Loxley would be envious of this talent of Sioned's, he shook his head calmly, "Will…."

"Oh, come on, Robin!" Allan pleaded, "We'd bring her food!"

Will looked vaguely displeased with even this suggestion, "I was thinking more along the lines of just leaving her here," He mused thoughtfully, his voice rising and falling teasingly, "You know, just Sioned stuck out here, tied to the tree all through the night…"

The words were innocent enough – perhaps meant to infuriate, but nothing else. But the tone of voice was completely different…Robin had used the same lilt to his voice before, but only to flirt with and tease lasses. That couldn't be Will's intention, surely? But as Allan started to talk loudly to the rest of the gang, Will exchanged a Look – not a look, but definitely a Look – with Sioned, still smirking mischievously. Sioned was flushing irritably, choosing to glower at Will rather than share the knowing look he was shooting at her.

"If," Sioned ground out, "You keep me tied to a tree again…"

"Again?!" Three voices chorused as Robin, Allan and Much looked from Will to Sioned.

"This has happened before?"

Will shrugged, ducking his head before moving off to join Little John and Friar Tuck, "At least you're fully clothed this time," He felt compelled to mutter, seemingly inaudibly, but so Sioned, Much, Robin and Allan could hear.

Robin's eyes widened in disbelief, while Much determinedly studied the ground, ears turning red with embarrassment. Allan looked gleefully amused, "I insist upon hearing this tale from beginning to end, Sioned," He smirked, tweaking the young girl's nose, "Including the not-fully-clothed bit."

"It was an unfortunate incident," She forced out through ground teeth, "Which I do not wish to repeat _or_ recount again. Ever. In. My. Life. Now can someone _please_ let me go?!"

Robin cut through the ropes again, patting Sioned sympathetically on the shoulder. Instead of walking free, however, she placed one foot on the ground and shrieked in pain, falling sideways and clutching her leg, wincing. Much and Djaq moved forward on either side to support the young women, and the Saracen woman cast an expert eye down at her ankle.

"What happened?"

"She landed awkwardly on her ankle when your so-called _trap_ set our horses bucking," Marian muttered. Sioned felt compelled to shoot a furious look at Will.

"We can't stop here all night," Robin mused thoughtfully, casting a look back at the other, sullen band of outlaws, "You cannot walk?" It was clear to see that she couldn't, and he nodded to his manservant, "Much, if you wouldn't mind…"

Much nodded, and while the other outlaws prepared to move out, carefully and cautiously placed his arms under her legs and arms, lifting her completely off her feet. There was a look of abject concentration on the young outlaws face as he clumsily started to carry Sioned after the others that you would have had to be blind to miss, and Robin made a mental note to thank his best friend for taking such care.

Another thing you'd have to be blind to miss, he realised, was the resentful look that flashed across Djaq's eyes as Much lifted Sioned into his arms. It was only there for a second, before it was swallowed up in the concentrated look she usually wore around patients, but it was certainly there; a slightly covetous, bitter look that hardened her dark eyes for a split second. Robin made an effort to smother a grin.

As Marian walked next to him, he smiled down at her, "We're going back to the camp, I assume?"

"Of course! What sort of hosts would we be if we didn't welcome guests into our humble abode with the utmost hospitality and celebration?"

Marian rolled her eyes, "Why does that sound like trouble?"

Robin chuckled, "Because you know me too well."

* * *

**A/N: **Robin/Marian fluff is getting quite addictive. As is Much/Djaq fluff...There's something wrong with me...

Ah well. And the Unfortunate Incident shall be mentioned again, I promise...

Much thankyous to: **robinsangel92** (yep...just not THE outlaws...thanks!) **StargazingBasketCase** (that _is_ an alarmingly long review! Don't worry, Gisborne's getting kept away from Marian for the time being...unless I chose to be _really_ mean to Robin in the near future..."has evil thoughts". I do love the idea of Vasey and Gisborne dancing around in the field...it just amuses me. Greatly. And NOW you know how evil your cliffies are...) **TheviEnsofhIStorY** (mwa-ha...I do love tormenting people with my cliffhangers) **RixxiSpooks** (Ok! Calm down! I'v updated, don't worry!) **Nyeren** (Don't worry, it doesn't sound _too _callous...at least insomnia's now being put to good use!) **AmericanElemental** (Thanks! I think it's a mixture of both...) **PirateofSherwood** (Nah, I don't think that'll be completely nessecary...) **applecede1** (Aww, thankyou very much!) **avidgokufan** (Thanks! I think I'm getting a little too addicted at the moment though...) **astorma** (Thanks!!) **LialaSword **(Well, I tried to include some in this chapter) **BlueSparx **(I have to agree with you to a certain extent about Richard Armitage...I should really stop myself slipping over to the dark side! _Ahem_..I do love writing the Sheriff...he's so funny and psycho. Glad you think I've got him right!) **butterflygoodbye** (Thanks! Sorry about the evil cliffie...) **skipdale** (Thanks! I do love writing Will/Sioned, they keep tormenting each other...) **and meriamsherwood **(Sorry! Went on holiday...hope you enjoyed this chapter!)

Ok...insomnia's finally catching up with me...am now incredibly sleepy.

You guys know what to do with the little review button!


	7. Chapter 7: Dialemas and Discussions

**A/N:** Gah...sorry for the delay, ladies and gents, but had to look after my German Exchange Student. And I can't speak German.

We had a slight block in communications.

Ah well. Enjoy the next chapter...which I hate, but needed to write. Ah well. And I actually created a serious conversation for once. This is indeed smething to be proud of.

* * *

"She's asleep," Allan grumbled, nodding down towards the dozing young woman that he was carrying, and hitting his chin straight on the top of her head, "I usually prefer women to fall asleep in my arms _after_ certain other things have happened, not before, if you catch my drift." 

Will rolled his eyes pointedly, while Much shook his head, "You'd better hope Sulien doesn't catch you speaking like that," He muttered, resisting the urge to mutter 'dunderhead' under his breath.

"Don't worry, she's not my type," The Southerner smirked, "I don't go for women who hit me over the head with blunt instruments."

"Does a dead fish not count as a blunt instrument anymore?"

Allan flushed with embarrassment while the rest of the gang burst out laughing at Will's wry comment. It was well known throughout the Sherwood Gang that, while the young outlaw regularly boasted of his many female acquaintances and conquests, he did have a soft spot for a certain Eleanor of Lincoln, whose father was a merchant in Nottingham. Although Allan – and a rather disdainful Djaq – insisted that the only reason his interest in the young woman deepened was because she had so far seemed immune to his charms, Will wasn't so sure. He had never seen his best friend pursue such a seemingly impossible task with such steadfast devotion.

Unfortunately, Eleanor had rebuffed each and every of poor Allan's advances – and, sick of Allan exceedingly mischievous attempts, had finally snapped, and flung a wet fish straight at the outlaw's face.

"Shut up," Allan grumbled, his ears going red, "I – she didn't – shut up!"

It was the first time he'd seen Allan lost for words, and Will burst out laughing, enjoying seeing Allan's red face increase in hue. Scowling, Allan attempted to make a rude gesture with one hand, clutching Sioned in the other arm precariously. This ambitious gesture almost caused the outlaw to drop his burden, and he yelped, making a grab for Sioned moments before she slipped out of his arms completely. Which just happened to bring their bodies in closer proximity to each other.

Will gritted his teeth.

His best friend shot a mischievous look over at his friend, "Jealous?"

"Hardly."

Smirking in a way that told Will he didn't believe him in the slightest, Allan shrugged, looking down at the red-head again, "This lass could sleep through anything," He muttered, beginning to bounce her in his arms in a parody of rocking a baby to sleep, "I remember watching my old man looking after my brother like this," He said wistfully, "My mum would throw a fit when he tossed him in the air…"

Robin detached his arm from Marian, which had been gradually gaining a tighter and tighter grip around her waist, and shot Allan a warning glare, "Allan. You wouldn't."

A wicked grin spread across Allan's face. It was the sort that was usually seen on Robin's own face, and for a few moments the outlaw leader wondered if Allan had been watching and practising his grin. It was alright, he supposed – as long as Allan didn't use it for influencing inordinate amounts of young women. The Grin should be used only for good.

"C'mon, it's not like I'm gonna drop her or anything!" He protested innocently, the bouncing gradually getting more forceful, "I do think I know how to look over one measly little lass…"

"ALLANADALEPUTMEDOWNTHISINSTANT!!!"

Much jumped in shock, as a newly-awakened Sioned locked her arms fearfully around Allan's neck. It was just bad timing that had caused the young woman to awaken while she was in mid-air, so to speak.

There was a solid thud as Little John's staff came into contact with Allan's head, "Give her to someone else before you drop her."

A brief silence ensued, where Allan looked pleadingly at Much, Little John, Tuck and Robin in turn, meeting only silence in turn. Then a slow, evil, wicked smirk started to edge across Allan's face. As one man, the entire gang turned to face Will.

Will fought the urge to back away, "Uh-uh. No. No way. Not going to happen."

"He'll _drop_ me!"

Robin rolled his eyes, "Of course he won't!"

"Yes I will!"

"You see?!"

Carrying the struggling Sioned, who was now wriggling like a fish on a hook, Allan dumped his burden into Will's reluctant arms. The youngest two members of the group glowered furiously at each other. Sioned folded her arms haughtily, and stiffened, making Will feel as though he was carrying a very resentful bag of potatoes.

He gritted his teeth again. Suddenly, the camp seemed far too far away.

-0-0-0-

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"_No._"

"Are we there yet?"

"NO."

"Are we there yet?"

"SIONED!"

"Sorry."

….

"Are we there _yet?_"

Will let out a growl in the back of his throat, and glared down at Sioned, who shrank down innocently, "I'll drop you. I swear it. I will."

Sioned clasped her hands together in a parody of mock innocence and settled herself back down into Will's arms. Will felt relieved. When she wasn't trying to infuriate him beyond all sane measures, Sioned could be alright. Not _that_ alright, but not bad. Like just now…she was nestled quite quietly in his arms, not speaking at all, her eyelids half closed from weariness, the top of her head just brushing his neck. He swallowed innocently, and focussed his attention determinedly straight ahead of Sioned's head, into a cluster of trees straight ahead of them. There was a blackbird perched in the branches of one of them…Sioned squirmed slightly in his arms, turning to rest her head into the crook of his neck…a squirrel was scrambling along the branch…Sioned's hair was faintly tickling his neck, brushing against his skin in a way that was not entirely unpleasant…the wind was blowing through the leaves…She was so light, how was it possible to be so light….Will almost swore very loudly as, still staring up into the trees, he tripped, and almost fell flat on his face.

Was it so hard to concentrate on one particular thing?

"Well done," Little John snorted appraisingly as he helped Will up, patting him on the back. Will winced, almost toppling forward again, "Between you and Allan, you've probably scared her beyond belief."

"Yeah…what were you thinking about, Will?"

The youngest outlaw turned to glare furiously at his best friend, his expression furious, before closing his eyes wearily, "Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we there yet?"

-0-0-0-

"Home sweet home," Robin announced proudly to Marian, sweeping an arm to show off the shambles of a camp – Allan had been charged with the task of keeping the camp tidy for this week, and the mess had swiftly accumulated. Blankets and spare clothing was strewn about everywhere, cooking pots were upended, and Little John's staff was being used to keep the canvas of a make-shift tent from collapsing. Only Djaq's bedding area was tidy. The outlaw leader quavered under the disapproving eye of Marian, "Well, it'll clean up alright when we get around to it."

Marian rolled her eyes. Even if not the most girly woman in Nottingham, she had a certain eye for tidiness, and she took in everything. At the moment her blue eyes were rapidly examining the camp. The outlaws stood, one by one in a line, feeling like a troop of misbehaving boys under the carefully scrutinising eye of a mother. Robin fiddled with the clasp of his cloak, his expression carefully blank – if not slightly apprehensive. Much chewed at his lip, his gaze carefully fixed on some point in the distance. Allan's carefree whistle struck several flat notes. Will, having hurriedly handed his burden over to Djaq's care, scuffed his shoes against the ground, his face flushing. Little John examined the floor determinedly, not daring to look up. Even Friar Tuck's cheery grin was a little strained.

Finally, she finished taking in everything, and Marian let out a long-suffering sigh, "It needs a woman's touch," She sighed wearily, "No offence, Djaq."

"None taken."

Robin looked up hopefully, his eyes gleaming, "Are you offering?"

"Hardly," Marian muttered dryly, though a fond smile was beginning to stretch across her lips. She shook her head, and sat down next to the fire, folding her hands calmly. The outlaws exchanged relieved grins.

It was strange, having the Lady Marian in their midst for less than a quick visit, Djaq thought as she bade Sioned sit down and took the young woman's leg gingerly in her fingers, rotating the ankle experimentally. Backs that were usually slouched were suddenly arrow-straight to attention. The ribald comments and jokes that usually filled the air were silenced. Much had rapidly removed his hat and smoothed down his hair, before jamming it on hurriedly and attending to the fire. Allan and Will's clothing had been hurriedly adjusted and smartened to perfection in only a few seconds. She rolled her eyes, feeling slightly miffed. There had never been any effort for her, no attempts to change their attitudes for her benefit.

Sighing, Djaq turned her attention back to Sioned's ankle, probing the bones and muscles carefully, "It's just a twist, little more," She announced finally, smiling reassuringly, "I should give it a rest for a few hours or so, it should be fine."

Sioned chuckled quietly, "Sulien will hardly let me. If he's around to stop me, that is," She mused quietly, her face thoughtful.

"He is not around at the moment?"

"Well…." She shrugged helplessly, "He disappears off somewhere when he thinks I don't see. I don't know where he knows Neither does my father. We don't ask him…I'm not sure I want to know."

The quiet, thoughtful air was split with an appreciative whistle, "Nice legs!"

Sioned hurriedly pulled her skirts down over her ankles again, face flushing. Djaq shot a black look over at Allan. The other outlaws' expressions were varying from amusement (Little John) to exasperation (Will). Only Robin and Marian exchanged glib looks.

"What?" Allan spread his arms helplessly, "I was…I was…" He looked around quickly for a moment, before frowning, "…There's no horse to blame that statement on this time, is there?"

Robin, Marian, Djaq and Sioned all opened their mouths at the same time to yell at Allan. Hurriedly, Much stood up, ever the peace-maker, "Food! I'll make the stew. And some drink. I think we need drinks."

Will folded his arms, shooting a black look at Allan. 'A horse to blame for that statement' indeed, "I think we need shovels."

Allan simply grinned innocently.

-0-0-0-

Six hours and several flasks of wine later, Will staggered to his feet from where he'd been nestled in his cloak under the shelter of the trees. Yawning, his head swimming slightly from the amount of wine he'd drunk, he managed a few steps before looking around the clearing. Everyone else was asleep, even Marian, who was curled up tightly at the foot of her own tree. From the sounds of the discussion at the end of the evening, Marian had not allowed Robin to sleep anywhere near her – a decision which had put a childish pout on the face of their noble leader – but he had consoled himself by standing watch over Marian, leaning against the tree that she was currently sleeping under. His head currently resting on his chest, and his neck was bent double, but he looked at peace for once, and even Marian couldn't argue with that.

Trying to rub some of the sleep that still clouded his eyes, he groaned. Allan. He was going to _kill_ Allan. "Just a couple of drinks, Will…take the edge off the Witch staying here, Will," He growled under his breath, feeling thoroughly fed-up with his best friend. What had been a few swigs of wine had turned into several flaskfuls shared between himself, Allan and Much while the others had been eating. Will was sure that Robin would never forgive them for prompting Much to sing.

Which he had done.

With great gusto.

Marian had found it amusing, though. Robin really should have been pleased with them for amusing his true love. But no, he'd just glared at them, a look as dark as thunder passing over his face. Will really hadn't known what the problem was. But maybe that was because he was so drunk that he hadn't been able to fully acknowledge Much's awful singing. Blearily rubbing his eyes, he shrugged, and started to walk towards the fire, swearing as he tripped over a bundle rolled up next to the fire.

The bundle swore too.

"Watch where you're walking, idiot!"

Will glowered down at Sioned, whose head had poked itself out from under the cloak she'd been wrapped in, "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me," She grumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position and warming her hands over the dying embers of the fire, "Injuring a cripple, Will. How could you."

He was tempted to kick her. Or hit her. Or just walk away. But a combination of exhaustion, headache and longing to stay and annoy her more made Will sit heavily down next to her, "You're not a cripple."

"Am. If it wasn't for your stupid trap I wouldn't have been almost _killed_."

Silently, Will gritted his teeth. She was ridiculous. She really was. Resisting the urge to hit the girl straight across the face, Will managed to force a smile onto his face – a brilliant achievement, he thought, considering what he really wanted to do was send Sioned packing. Back to Loxley. Even if it _was_ the middle of the night, "Oh. Does it hurt, your ankle? A _lot_?" His voice slightly hopeful, he stretched out his legs, lazily, like a cat, and grinned smugly at her, "See, doing that would hurt, if you had a twisted ankle. Like you do."

Sioned folded her arms and glared blackly. For a few seconds she was silent, trying to think up a good comeback. Then she glowered furiously at him, "…You're a pedantic, smug little git, aren't you?"

"Thanks."

For a few minutes the pair of them sat in silence, both glowering resentfully at the remnants of the fire. Will rubbed his hands, the cold night air chafing at his skin mercilessly, and pulled his knees close up to his chest. He was beginning to wish that he'd stayed in his bed – the silence was awkward, making his skin itch at the back of his neck. Why couldn't she say something? Anything – rather than look intently into the fire like that.

Why did he care?

"Do you think it'll ever be over?"

Will blinked at the sudden interruption, Sioned's voice oddly forlorn, "I…uh…what?"

"This," Sioned waved her arm vaguely around, her hand narrowly skimming past his eyes, "This whole…thing. Stuff. You know – the Sheriff and Prince John. And you lot in the forest. You know. The fighting, so to speak."

Suddenly, he was wishing she'd kept silent. Unsure of how to answer the question, Will nudged at the fire with his foot, stalling for time. How were you supposed to answer something like that? Answer it, when you spent every waking moment thinking of home, and every sleeping moment dreaming of it. Wondering if you'd ever get a chance to rest in the peace of your own home, without the constant fear of discovery, or punishment. Knowing that the moment when you could finally walk free through your own village could be months, or even years away. He shrugged, not wanting to voice any of these opinions, "Don't know. Months, I guess. Until the King returns."

Sioned let out a hollow laugh, "And until then?"

"We're stuck with the choices we make," Will mused softly, staring into space, the dying embers of the fire glowing feebly, "The roads we have to follow through," A sharp snort, which sounded more like a choked sob, caught his attention, "What?"

"Some of us have choices made for us," The young woman shot back viciously, "Should we have to deal with the consequences as laudably as you deal with yours? You would not even be in the forest if it were not for _your_ choices."

Meekly choosing to ignore Sioned's bitter comment, he shrugged, "It's worth fighting for."

"Worth fighting for," Sioned repeatedly tiredly, and then sighed, pulling the kerchief off from her head and shaking out her red hair, "There you have it. Sometimes I wonder if all you want is the fight. That you have been warring for so long that you cannot live without it."

There were no words for that. Abashed, and more than half aware that she was speaking the truth, Will stared shyly at his hands, trying to put a sentence together. What else was there to say? He had been truly eaten away from the inside with bitterness at the actions that had been carried out during the past five years, listing the grievances against people like the Sheriff and Gisborne until he was almost sick. Every blow that they drove against them, every small annoyance, it would never be enough. Sioned had hit the nail fight on the head by her words – and he resented her for it, suddenly feeling far too exposed, "That's not fair, Sioned," He mumbled finally, fully knowing that it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"None of this is," Sioned muttered sourly, "Fair would be Master Robin coming back. Fair would be the Sheriff being out. Fair would be Sulien listening to my opinions a-and actually valuing them. Fair would be Father not alone any more. Fair would be…" She trailed off miserably and shoved at the ground, before glowering at Will, as though he was lucky she hadn't shoved him, "All this being over. Don't even talk to me about _fair_."

"Well, don't add to the unfairness then! I'm sick of the fighting!"

"I'm just as sick of it as you are!" Sioned blurted out, "I don't like what they're doing to this country any more than you do! I hate the war! The meaningless waste…the destruction of personal lives…"

Will frowned, "Personal lives?"

"It's nothing."

"Sioned…"

"Will you back off? I told you, it's nothing."

Timidly, Will shrank back, stretching out his legs and staring into the night sky. The inky blackness seemed to surround them, and he sighed, "It can't be anything to do with me."

"That's for sure," Sioned scoffed, nodding, and some of her previous melancholy went out with the gesture, "We're enemies. Need not pretend to be anything else. No more, no less," She sighed, before curling up again and leaning her head against Will's legs, closing her eyes again, "Goodnight."

Feeling that it was a strange note to end with, Will stiffened, the feeling of Sioned's head pressed against him unsettling and disconcerting. Finally, and with some difficulty, he managed to lie down himself, letting one hand's worth of fingers tangled themselves very gently in Sioned's unruly curls. On second thoughts, he mused as his own eyes closed, maybe that had been a good ending. There hadn't needed to be anything else to say.

* * *

**A/N:** Maybe that's why I shouldn't write serious conversations. They just go wrong. 

Thanks to: **meriamsherwood** (well, the truth is I don't really have much of a life...cue sheepish grin) **The viEns of hIStorY** (thanks muchly!!) **RixxiSpooks** (I agree, it is a no mean feat to make Will even more cooler than he already is...I haven't decided yet what the whole tree thing should be yet, but it'll be good, promise) **butterflygoodbye** (Ah yes, the Sheriff's plan...which I still have to think up...) **avidgokufan** (Have done! A little late, but whatever...) **pixiespryte** (Indeed, hooray for Robin/Marianess!) **Dr. Nat** (aww, thanks very much! I love writing at night, no interuptions, so it's good fun writing this for you people!) **skipdale** (Thanks very much!!) **Nicki1147** (I agree...but do not fear, my friend, he has a lot of screentime coming up in the next few chappys...) **JellyPup** (Couldn't agree more. Really, really couldn't. Much and Djaq is a weird pairing...but I like it) **StargazingBasketCase** (I love your long reviews!! Marian is in much denial...not as much as Will and Sioned, admittedly, but a lot. And I dunno why I thought of Much and Djaq...they remind me slightly of Chandler and Monica from Friends...Your captial letters are funny...sorry for getting you so worked up... Update your story SOON! see, capital letters too) **and leeleigh** (Aww, thanks a lot!)

Well, it's 8:15 and I gotta get to school...bye, people!


	8. Chapter 8: Flirtations and Firebrands

**A/n:** Sorry it was such a long wait! Exams...are evil. Very evil. Plus work experience...

Anyway, here it is! This was written at about 2:30 am last night, with a LOT of sleep deprivation. So, if it seems wierd, it probably is. SLEEP DEPRIVED, people!

* * *

Allan regarded Much from where he was lounging against one of the trees surrounding a clearing with a wary look on his face, "If the worst comes to worst, we won't have to fight against the Sheriff and Gisborne any more," He drawled, his Southern accent thick and noticeable still after all his time in Sherwood, "We could just let Much eat them."

The golden-haired young man looked up from where he was bolting down what appeared to be an entire loaf of bread. To Will's utter annoyance, whose head was throbbing, the inside of his throat thick and stifled, Much didn't appear to show any signs of a hangover from last night's indulgence, save the fact that his eyes were unusually red and puffy. Certainly his appetite didn't seemed to have suffered. Neither did Allan, who was swaggering around the campsite with all of his usual abandon. The Devil really did favour his own, then.

"I have," Much said, with as much dignity as he could manage through a mouthful of bread and honey, "a healthy appetite for a person of my age and – _oi_!"

Little John stood, towering, above him, grinning with a mischievous expression that didn't seem to fit a giant of such threatening stature as he had. The rest of Much's loaf was held in his hand, high above the manservant's head, "Leave some for the rest of us," The man informed him gruffly, setting to work on the bread, "_Some_ of us were hard at work yesterday."

Allan rolled his eyes indulgently, pushing himself off from the tree he was leaning against with one backwards kick against the bark and set about pacing around the campsite for the third time that morning, "Yeah, yeah. Weren't you who was carrying Sioned around the forest yesterday, was it? That's hard work, I'd say."

"OI!"

"Oh, mornin' Sioned," The young man grinned over at Sioned, who was sitting side by side with Djaq, quietly talking together, "Didn't realise you were listening there."

"Where's Robin and Marian?" Much asked quickly, diverting any bloodshed caused by Sioned's temper.

"Getting' firewood," Little John looked down at the slowly dying fire, "We're almost out."

"Ah."

Firewood.

Hmm.

There was a significant pause, while everyone stared pointedly down at the fire, wondering who would be the first to break the rather awkward silence. Everyone knew what they wanted to say…..The silence was broke by Friar Tuck's tentative cough, "Shall I go and get some more firewood then?"

"Yeah, otherwise we're not gonna get any at all," Allan mused dryly, before chuckling. He wandered over to Will, smirking at the slightly sallow tint to the youngest outlaw's skin, the pained look on his face, and ruffled his hair with an exaggerated motion. He wasn't disappointed by the groan that escaped from Will's half-parted lips, "You alright there, mate?"

Will was _not_ 'alright there', he was very much un-alright. Allan's constant plying him with ale had turned out to be a bad thing. His head hurt, his throat was hoarse and clogged up, and any movement that he caused was turning into intolerable pain. Allan's hair ruffle was _not_ appreciated, "Shut up, Allan."

Allan's grin just got broader, "Not in a good mood today, are we?" He chuckled, ruffling his young charge's hair again, and was rewarded with another groan, followed by several muffled curses. His skin rapidly growing paler by the second, Will rested his head in his hands, the muttered words of 'I'm going to murder you, Allan' not lost on his best friend. He laughed, rolling his eyes, "Oi, serving wench!" Allan waved cheerfully over at Sioned, "You wanna bring some water over for the ailing lad here?"

Sioned turned to glower at Allan, who didn't bat an eyelid. Making a face at him, she got to her feet, picking a water-skin up with her, and wandering over, threw it at Will. His slightly dulled senses meant that his reflexes were slow, and it caught him square in the chest, making him wince in heightened pain, and Sioned laugh. Stifling a smirk himself at his friend's predicament, Allan slung an arm around Sioned's waist, pinching her hip slyly, "Taking pleasure in your fellow man's pain, Sioned. How could you?"

Sioned reached out to slap Allan's hand away briskly. The young woman's expression had a hint of indulgent amusement twitching through the irritation, "You found it funny too; you're just as bad as me."

"Not me!" Allan gave a cheeky smile, the subtle, lower tones of flirtation in his voice, "I can be _very_ bad."

Ducking out of the grab Allan made for her, laughing despite herself, Sioned danced just out of reach, rolling her grey eyes expressively.

Still mourning the loss of the rest of his breakfast, Much sat down next to Will with a heavy thud, his eyes watching Allan and Sioned as they moved further away from them. They were the only two who were paying attention – Little John, Djaq and Friar Tuck were all used to Allan's ways. There was irritation in the man's blue eyes, yes, but also just a hint of awe, "How does he do it?" He demanded, disbelief in his voice, as Allan caught Sioned around the waist and drew her close to him, murmuring something in her ear that was too quiet for anyone else to pick up, "I thought Sioned _hated_ him!"

_So did I,_ Will thought blackly, watching as his best friend flirted blatantly with Sioned, prompting light laughs from her mouth, the hint of a blush appearing at her throat and face. But then Allan was able to charm the birds of the trees, and though he had thought that Sioned was more inaccessible than the birds, he didn't seem to be doing too badly with Sioned either. Watching as Allan nuzzled his face up against Sioned's ear, his mouth brushing the young woman's skin, Will clenched his jaw, unable to pretend even to himself that his bad humour was entirely to do with his hangover. He knew that living alone in the forest had an uncountable amount of downsides to it, especially living alone in the forest with only other _men_ for company (except for Djaq. But Djaq didn't really count…by an unspoken agreement between the men, sometime after she had been captured, Djaq was off limits. Besides, the way Much stood next to the young Saracen woman spoke volumes; every inch of his posture spoke 'mine', however unconsciously.). But still…Will couldn't help his jaw dropping as Allan swiftly pecked Sioned on both cheeks, before kissing her on the mouth, the gesture teasing, but slower, more deliberate, the mischievous invitation there. It was only his best friend's nature, he knew, to tease and promise, but…Seeing the blush spread rapidly from Sioned's face and neck, Will's stomach clenched, and he looked away quickly, focussing his attention on the water skin. What he wouldn't give to be causing that blush on her skin, he thought darkly, before his own face turned as bright as Sioned's hair.

Grey eyes dancing with lenient amusement, Sioned's own thoughts were no less disturbing than Will's, although not dismissed as lightly as the young outlaw's. Practical and plain-speaking as she might have been, her mind was providing her with all sorts of intriguing ideas as to how she could follow up Allan's teasing flirtation, ideas which would have made Sulien curse if he had heard them. Allan's own ideas were harmless, if not chaste and immaculate, she knew, and interestingly enough, she genuinely liked the young man, underneath the customary show of annoyance. Plus the innocent attraction was there, she noted lazily, not even protesting as Allan's hips rolled slightly and slowly against her own. The outlaw was most definitely not unattractive.

It was just that, despite how enjoyable the kiss had been, he just didn't send shivers up her spine like….certain others did.

Thoroughly disturbed by this last thought, Sioned started slightly, her grey eyes slightly widened. Allan looked down at her with innocent interest, and she hit him lightly on her shoulder, "Get off," She ordered, grinning, "You'll scar Will horribly."

Taking the rebuff in his stride, Allan grinned cheekily at her, standing back a respectable distance and joined Much and Will, "What? It gets lonely in this forest, I'll have you know!"

"That's what your hand's there for," Sioned retorted coolly.

Will gagged on his water, spluttering and choking, and Much looked up sharply, the crack of his neck almost audible. Even Allan looked shocked.

"How the Devil did you – "

"What?" Enjoying the shock she had caused them, Sioned tossed her hair back from her face, the blush on her skin dying down. In contrast, Will and Much's colours was rapidly heightening, "You think I don't know how lonely men cope with the lack of women?"

"I don't do that!" Will protested loudly, as soon as he'd recovered from inhaling the water.

"Me neither!" Much's protest was just as indignant.

Allan spread his hands, an almost helpless, martyred look on his face, "I've got too many women making demands of me to keep myself busy. Can't say the same for these two though."

The looks that Much and Will shot him made Hell look positively freezing by comparison.

Sioned gave a slight snort, which told the three young men that she wasn't convinced, and shook her head, "Whatever you say. Me and Sulien were watching you three at archery practise in the forest last week," Relieved that the conversation seemed to be taking a safer turn, Allan and Much started to grin. Not convinced, Will was still on his guard. "Sulien said you were missing so much because you were making yourselves blind."

There it was. Wanting to get out of this conversation, mostly because of the smirk on Sioned's face, Will scowled sullenly, "Your brother talks a load of rubbish."

Reaching out with the same gesture that he had used to push away Allan, but with considerably less tenderness, Sioned batted him on the arm. The movement made Will wince, resting his head in his hands again, "My brother talks no such thing," She said haughtily, "He also said that, since Robin and Much came back from the Holy Lands, you would all probably have a knowledge of Greek ways, whatever they are, which would keep you warm at night – what's wrong?"

Will had choked on the water again, this time spilling the water all over the leafy floor. This was lost on the youngest outlaw, who was spluttering and choking, determinedly not looking at either of his fellow outlaws. Beside him, Much's face had turned a bright, glowing scarlet shade, eyes as wide as cart wheels. Allan's face had split into a wide grin.

"What's wrong with you all? And what on earth are Greek ways?"

Much, Allan and Will exchanged panicked looks. Robin and Much had talked about different situations they had come across during their travels to the outlaws – some of them repeatable, some of them not. None of them wanted to explain this particular phrase to Sioned.

After some nudging and significant glares, Much bit his lip, "When we passed through Constantinople, there were bathing houses where men would go to meet other men in the same way that they might a woman," His face still glowing, the young man refused to meet the eye of anyone. Allan was audibly chuckling, "That's what Sulien meant by Greek ways. Love between two men, so to speak."

Sioned look bewildered, "Like the friendship between Lord Edward and Master Robin's father? Or between you and Robin?"

Much spluttered again.

"Nothing like that," Will said with exasperation. Although he was by far the most innocent of the gang, there were also some things he'd been taught about, mostly by Allan, "That's just friendship. More like…more like the love between Robin and Marian."

The young woman still looked perplexed, "How can that be?"

There was no way in God's earth that Will was going to tell her. He was about to change the subject, when Allan looped an arm around her shoulders, "I'll quench your curiosity, Sioned."

And so he did.

In painful, extreme detail.

As he talked, Sioned's eyes grew wider and wider, while Will and Much's own expressions grew steadily more and more incredulous. The explanation Allan was providing wasn't just explanatory, it was down-right blatant. If Sioned had had any doubts before now, they were soon dispelled.

Will knew it was asking for trouble; but he had to ask. "How do you _know_ about this stuff?"

"Oh, I've been around a bit." His young friend's expression grew, if possible, even more alarmed, and Allan reached out to hit him, "Not like that, you lack-wit! But I have a lot of friends, and they aren't all as innocent as you."

His best friend chose not to rebuff the comment, setting his jaw again, "When are we taking her home, again?" He asked.

If Allan hadn't known Will better, he would have sworn there was a note of pleading to his voice.

-0-0-0-

Dismounting her horse with a thud, and wincing as her injured ankle jarred against the hard ground, Sioned led her horse around the back of Loxley Hall, handing the palfrey to Giles to stable. She had not immediately ridden home, preferring instead to ride the horse through the open air, all the better to clear her mind and cool the fire at the pit of her stomach. Allan's brief flirtation had left her giddier than she would care to admit to anyone else, and she had still felt light-headed as she'd ridden back with Lady Marian. Everything below her belt burned.

It hadn't just been Allan either. During the morning, her attention had flickered once over to where Much and Will were sitting. Much's expression had been comical, one of disbelief, but Will…he'd glowered at Allan's back sullenly, his eyes burning angrily. Despite Allan, she had, for a few seconds, admired the line of his jaw as it clenched slightly, the dark fire of his eyes. Her stomach jolted as the images came rushing back, clear as crystal.

Lost in thought for a few moments, Sioned briefly stopped, and shook herself, momentarily stunned. Barely able to believe that she had been day-dreaming about Will, she swept it from her mind, choosing to put it down to lack of sleep, and the strange, new feelings that Allan had coaxed into being. Not Will, _Allan_.

She was hardly sure if it was the more preferable option.

Frowning, Sioned turned around the corner, coming to the front of the Hall, in time to see Gisborne quietly conferring with a man, small in stature, weedy and thin, but with a mass of flaxen hair piled on the top of his head. From the state of his clothing and the sight of his panting horse nearby, the man was a messenger of some kind; but neither man nor beast was permitted to rest, as Gisborne curtly handed the man a roll of vellum, and turned his back as the messenger rode off.

Too late she realised that Gisborne would assume she had been spying on him, and, as her liege lord approached, Sioned stared hastily at the ground, folding her hands demurely. Gisborne didn't suffer any kind of insolence from his servants, and nor did he expect any liberties to be taken. And, ever since the almost-wedding, he had been in a foul mood lately…

"You have a light step for one with such a heavy-handed brother, Sioned," Gisborne's voice sounded from somewhere above her head. She was surprised to hear an edge of humour to the voice, "How long were you standing there?"

Sioned concentrated on studying the grass growing beneath her feet, "Not long, sir. I only just returned from seeing Lady Marian safely back to Knighton."

"Faithful as well as light footed. You and your brother have little in common," The edge of humour became sharp as a razor, "Is the ground uncommonly interesting to you, Sioned, or are you just frightened of me?"

She had almost been able to memorise the pattern that the grass made, and it was a relief to look up at Gisborne, no matter how intimidating the dark eyes and fierce expression had been beforehand. But today, Gisborne's expression was different; more open, his forehead furrowed as he raised his eyebrows in a question. His last question had obviously not been a simple jest; he was honestly interested in whether or not she was frightened of him. Swallowing the sharp remark she had been about to make, and emboldened by his softened expression, Sioned looked him straight in the eye, "No, my lord, I do not fear you." It was a half-truth; more often than not, she was completely unsure of what to make of her lord. There were the tales, of course, of what he was capable of doing; and she had seen the dangers herself. But that was men. Women had very little to fear from Gisborne; except the danger of his charm.

The open expression lingered for a moment, and then Gisborne chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "Then my notoriety must be slipping. I thought all parents threatened their naughty children with tales of what I would do to them."

"My father never threatened me," Sioned shot back, unable to resist the jibe.

"Because you were never naughty?" Gisborne's voice was teasing, but there was a dark undercurrent to it; one that left the slight flirtations that Sioned had encountered before hollow and bare.

If Allan's innocent flirtation had prompted a slight heat in her stomach, now it was well and truly on fire. For a moment lost for words, Sioned chewed on a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid, well aware that her bones had turned to water. No wonder that he had a reputation amongst the maids of the castle, "My father knows tales far worse than the threat of my liege lord, sir," She finally said, but her voice was shaky and hoarse, not the strong confident voice she'd been planning on answering in.

The man observed her for a few seconds beforehand, before the tension broke, and he laughed again, with more relief than anything else. The sound made him sound more human, more relaxed, and Sioned could feel her racing blood slow down and cool again, "With tales of the Sherwood outlaws, I presume? I know you and your brother have an uncommon dislike of them."

Images flashed through Sioned's mind; Much's tentative gesture as he lifted her into the air, Robin open, honest grin. Djaq's quiet words as she examined her ankle; Friar Tuck's jests – mostly at Much's expense. Little John's blunt, father-like manner; Allan's arms folding slyly around her. Will's bruised skin beneath her finger tips.

She found herself swallowing again, "Yes, my lord."

Gisborne grunted in the affirmative, "Good. Your loyalty is inspiring." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a small, silver broach out and threw it lazily towards her, "Here. As a gift for escorting the Lady Marian safely home."

Sioned gulped, and nodded as Gisborne turned on his heel and left, "Thank you, my lord."

"Look at you." A new voice, dark and disdainful, sounded out behind her, "Are you really so blind as to be bought for a few trinkets?"

The hot tears that had been prickling at the back of her eyes vanished, and Sioned spun round to see Will leaning against the wall of Loxley Hall, arms folded and eyes narrowed. Wishing that the flush in her cheeks would disappear, she tossed her hair back from her face haughtily, noticing that her hands were shaking a little more than usual, "Are you spying on me?"

Will shrugged, not answering her question. He hadn't been watching for long, actually, but upon arriving in Loxley for the usual deliveries he'd seen Gisborne approach the maid, and…before he knew it, had been listening intently. While he had been in a bad mood from a combination of the hangover and Allan, Gisborne's words had done little to improve his mood. Neither had Sioned's reaction; her face reverting to the red blush that it had been wearing in the morning. He noticed that she was still clutching the silver broach tightly in her hand, feeling a small stab of jealousy which he quickly dismissed. If Gisborne wanted to throw little trinkets her way, that was fine by him.

"I do not wish to be seen with an outlaw!" She hissed furiously.

"More than you don't wish to be seen with the Master of the house giving you gifts?" Will reached out and pried open her fingers, trying to examine it; but Sioned slapped his hand away before he could see it, "You wonder whose it was before he gave it to you?"

Sioned jutted her chin out stubbornly, "He gave it to _me_. That's the end of it."

"Yes, and now you'll go back into the house and start talking to your brother, and in some small way, you will try and convince him that Gisborne's not really that bad, even if you don't realise you're doing it!" Will retorted, his voice getting more and more animated; something that only happened when his manner was truly distressed, "Damn it, Sioned, can't you see what he's really like?"

"I'm sure someone as perfect as you would find this hard to comprehend, but I never said he was perfect! He's just nice to me, that's all."

"_Nice_ to you?! Sioned, he isn't capable of being nice to _anyone_! It's just that you are weak and taken in too easily. Guy of Gisborne only cares for himself. He is not capable of having feelings for anyone."

Sioned scoffed, "And what would _you_ know about having feelings for anyone?"

"Well….I…." Will stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth half-open. What _had_ he been about to say? That, apart from a few crushes on the village girls and a brief infatuation with Djaq, which hadn't seemed to have gotten anywhere, he knew practically nothing? That falling in love was still a completely mystery to him? That the strongest feelings he'd ever had for a woman were for Sioned, and at the moment he was completely unsure of what those feelings were?

The young woman took his silence to mean that he didn't have an answer, and scowled, "You see? _You_ don't have a clue about it!" Defiantly she took the broach and pinned it to her cloak, the silver showing up gaudily against the dark green material, "You turned your back on the world I still live in, Will, so don't presume to judge!"

With a flounce, she turned her back on the outlaw, storming back off to the Hall furiously; where she'd probably lick her wounds and seek comfort with her big brother, Will thought with a malicious twinge. Scowling, he himself turned back to his own work, vaguely wondering whether the words '_as perfect as you_' had been said with sarcasm or not.

-0-0-0-

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

Vasey was…bored.

No Gisborne to shout at. No Hood to capture. No peasants to mutilate. You would have thought that a few of those bloody peasants would have been considerate enough to get themselves into trouble simply for the purpose that he could amuse themselves while punishing them, but no. Couldn't even be that kind. He didn't know why he bothered.

He'd even put on a festival for their benefit.

True, it had been the Festival of Pain, with the sole purpose of teaching them to pay their taxes in one time, but _still_. It was the thought that counted.

Where _was_ Gisborne? Maybe he'd run away. Finally cracked. Run off to join Hood and help make his life even more of a misery. All that bloody black leather would have to go though; if he didn't want to show up amidst the brown and greens of the forest. He had a vision of Hood and Gisborne arguing over Gisborne's new attire.

Gisborne….in green.

Possibly with dead leaves sewn onto his shirt. The cat-like Gisborne, who managed to infuriate Vasey no end by appearing silently at his side, would make little crackling noises wherever he walked.

He smirked.

Vasey was still chuckling as the messenger, clearly exhausted, was ushered into the room. Bowing, and looking as though one push would send him toppling to the floor, he handed the Sheriff a sheaf of rolled vellum, Gisborne's seal clearly glaring out at him. Waving a hand to dismiss the man, Vasey broke the seal open with a little more relish than he should have used, and began to read.

For one moment he thought it was a resignation letter.

_My Lord_, he mentally envisaged, _I have to inform you that I am no longer in your employment. Incidentally, do you know of anywhere that sells green cloths?_

Probably not.

As Vasey kept on reading, his eyes grew wide. Oh, this was good. Very good. Much better than Gisborne's resignation. Aware that the guards at the door were watching, he ignored them, jumping up and down on the spot in glee.

"He's coming! The bloody fool's _coming!_"

* * *

**A/N:** So...Allan flirting with her, Gisbonre giving a gift and Will being thoroughly jealous of the whole thing? I know I shouldn't be jealous of my characters, but...

Much thanks to: Nicki1147 (Sorry! There was Gisborne in this chapter though! Very odd Gisborne, I will admit...) Deb1 (awww, thanks! Sadly, I can't say this was a serious chapter - not by a long shot, but I had to get all the scary conversations between the characters out of my head and onto the computer) Nyeren (Thanks! I know, I really need to proofread my stuff more...) kenshinroks2111 (I love jealous Will too...so I had to include more of him here!) RixxiSpooks (lol! All in good time, m'dear, all in good time...) inflatabletigers (woohoo German indeed... :) ) StargazingBasketCase (LOL thanks! I love my Allan too...writing him is very fun, but it also gives me an insight as to what's going on in his head, and that, my friend, is a scary place...) meriamsherwood (awwww, thanks! Yes, you may indeed see another character! Sioned's name is pronounced Shon-ned. But it's very confusing to think about. I got it wrong for ages...) AngelsShadow816 (tehe thanks!) SadakoLemming (I'm not gonna say anything. I'm just not gonna say anything...except it WAS your fault!) ForeverAFoolOfFortune (I agree! Who're you in the RH forum?) --friendly-lunatic-- (Hmmm possibly - except I love evil Gisborne. So we'll have to see, won't we?) (lol we will see...)

Ok...and now I realise I'm late for work expreince...Until next time, people!


	9. Chapter 9: Trysts and Trees

**A/N:** Oooh, a relatively quick update this time...for me, anyway. I'm so proud of myself!!!

Here it is...read and enjoy! Much cookies and outlaw hugs if anyone knows where the exchange between Sioned and Thornton comes in...

OK...and apparently Fanfiction seems to like this chapter. Enough to post it twice. How odd...Just ignore it the second time, it's not any better than it was the first...

* * *

Eleanor of Lincoln was known in Nottingham for having a very calm, steady nature. The sea-green eyes would never flash in anger; her hands would never clench into fists. And yet, none of her neighbours were surprised at the events that were taking place outside the house where Eleanor and her parents lived. 

"GET OUT!"

There was the sound of crashing and clattering, and at the next moment a tall, dark-haired young man shot out the door like a scalded cat. He legged it straight across the road, only coming to a halt when he was safely hidden behind a weaver's cart. There was a definite bruise on one of his hands.

The neighbours smirked. They'd seen this episode before.

"Look, Eleanor, I only meant to – "

"OUT!"

Another crash. The dark haired young man winced.

Slightly unsteadily, another young man emerged from the merchant's house, clutching at his head; where there was a distinct dent at his brow. Despite his predicament, he was grinning cockily; but there was a definite speed in his step as he hastily made his way across the road to join his companion.

"You brought this upon yourself, you know," Will muttered blackly.

Allan didn't heed his best friend's warnings, still staring across at the house, his eyes glazed over slightly, "A fine, fierce woman, that, Will," He chuckled, a note of longing in his voice, "But ever she's gotten betrothed to that Marcus, it's put her right off men."

The younger outlaw rolled his eyes pointedly.

As Allan continued to stare across at the object of his desire's house, the said object appeared. Eleanor of Lincoln was a rare beauty, tall and slender, with fine features, bright eyes and long, golden hair. At the moment, however, her face was flushed angrily, and she was clutching a besom in her hand fiercely.

"And stay out!" She snapped, holding the besom at a more defensive angle as Allan, hands spread innocently, started to make his way back across the road. Will followed at a more cautious pace, not willing to go back into battle quite so soon, "My God, I thought that for once you were only here for a decent, Christian purpose!"

Allan's nose wrinkled up with consternation, "When did you change your mind?" He asked innocently, leaning against the wall.

"When you started putting your arm around my waist, for one thing!"

Will rolled his eyes again. On one of their many trips to make deliveries, his best friend had insisted on paying a visit to the merchant's (and his alluring daughter's) house. On being questioned, he had defensively explained that he only wanted to ask Master Thomas some questions about the health of his workers, so they would know how much food to bring the next time. That, however, hadn't stopped him from making a grab for Eleanor while Master Thomas was out of the house. Unluckily for Allan, Eleanor had been holding the besom at that particular time. Her aim was very skilful. Which explained the dent in Allan's skull.

"What?" Allan's pretence at innocence was not, to say the least, very convincing. The protest sounded weak even to his own ears, and so he swallowed, shook his head, and began again, "I was – well, I was only – Look, the point is, Eleanor, I really – " He swore and broke off, sticking his hands in his pockets, "Why can't you just…"

"Just what? I don't do anything that any self respecting woman wouldn't do! You're always at me!"

"Well, that's because you never let me speak!"

Eleanor sighed, rolling her eyes, "And what would you say if I let you speak?"

"Well, I'd…." Allan cursed, just in time to see Eleanor's betrothed follow her out from the door, "Hullo Marcus."

Marcus Baldwin was a wiry, average height young man with straggly blond hair and a dry sense of humour. He was loyal, dependable and thoroughly an all round good bloke – but even to Will, who was his best friend's harshest critic, it was very hard to see how Eleanor could prefer the charming Allan to…Marcus Baldwin.

"How are your attempts at seducing my future wife going, Allan?"

And the fact that he was so damn _likeable_ made him so hard to hate. Marcus viewed Allan's subtle and not-so subtle flirtations with Eleanor as a form of amusement, nothing less. It was hard to tell whether Allan was pleased or insulted by this approach.

"_What_?" Eleanor was positively fuming. Will took a liberal step backwards, "Are you just going to stand there while he insults me?"

"Oh, aye," Marcus grinned, prising the besom gently from the young woman's hands and beginning to tidy it away, "Just while he insults you."

Flushing, Eleanor turned around to glare at Allan. Fortunately for the outlaw's well-being, Will grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him hastily away.

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile in the kitchens of Loxley Hall, despite the warm and beautiful weather, another storm was brewing.

"_NO_, Father!" Sioned brought her hands down heavily on the kitchen table, causing well-worn bowls and platters to rattle slightly where they stood, "No, no, no!"

Ian Thornton made a weary grimace, unable, for the moment, to say anything more. It had been a long day, and what seemed like an even longer argument. Damn Godwin Taylor, he suddenly thought uncharitably, with a rush of uncharacteristic irritation. Any other lass he could have set his mind on, except for his daughter, "Sioned…"

His daughter made a furious throwing gesture with her hands and heaved up an armful of bowls, fairly dropping them into the full water bucket. Dirty water slopped over the sides, splashing her skirts, "Why must you persist? Why? Why must _he_ persist?"

And this was what happened when you took pity on a young lad whose suit had so far been rejected by his daughter, and you tried to make her see that maybe, maybe in these troubled times, a husband such as Godwin Taylor wouldn't be the end of the earth. Thornton ran a hand through his greying hair, shooting an imploring look at his niece, who was diligently pummelling bread dough to the side of the room and smiling innocently back at her uncle. Hannah Thornton was pretty, smart and capable; but, the steward admitted to himself with a spark of pride, she did not have the same spark of passion and vitality as his daughter.

There came another angry sound from Sioned as she began sweeping remains of food from the bowls onto the floor. But then again, Thornton admitted with a shrug, she wasn't half as much trouble as his daughter either. And he couldn't work out whether that was a curse or a blessing. A mixture of both, perhaps.

"Because he is a friend of Sulien, and he loves you dearly!" Even to his ears, the argument sounded weak and insubstantial.

"Yes, and I love him; but as a _sister_, as I would Sulien, or Philip! He must be content with that!"

His patience almost frayed, Thornton grabbed Sioned's arms as she tried to push past him, "No, little firebrand, we none of us can be content with that! Not when this world is so dangerous and you are a woman alone; a woman who finds it no small trouble to make too many people unhappy with her!"

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!" Pulling herself out of her father's grip, Sioned lifted her chin defiantly to glare at Thornton. The man was struck with a sudden sense of remembrance as her grey eyes flashed with emotion; eyes that her mother had been wont to turn his way with just the same amount of fury, at times. Only the severity of the situation stopped Thornton from smiling wryly. "And I don't need Godwin flipping Taylor to see me safe in this world!"

"Or Will Scarlett?"

Both father and daughter turned with a start at the new voice. Thornton's initial shock was only slightly abated when he saw Sulien lounging at the door frame, his travelling cloak still donned and dusty from the road. It was a relief to see his son, who spent so much of his time away from the home fire and making his own business, but at the same time a worry to hear the cynical tone in his voice, the slight malice in his voice. Ever since Guy of Gisborne had taken a post at Loxley, his son had become a stranger to him.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Sioned retorted hotly.

Sulien's mouth twisted in mocking consternation, "You've been talking with the outlaws a lot more recently. Especially with that carpenter a lot more recently."

"So?"

Thornton rolled his eyes. Despite Sioned and Sulien's emnity with the young carpenter, he was actually quite fond of him - maybe because he managed to hold his own against his children's rambustuous antics. Trying to move the subject away from Will Scarlett, he shot a calculating look at his son's ragged appearance, "Where have you been?"

"Out." Waving his hand as if his father's question was no more than a minor irritation, Sulien glared at his sister, "Well? Don't you think people will talk if you're spending too much time with an outlaw?"

"Out _where_?"

"Talk? What's that supposed to mean?"

Sulien gave up all pretence of answering Thornton's questions, grabbing Sioned by the wrist, "Godwin has told me he that he agrees with me on this; any woman who associates herself with men of Will Scarlett and Allan A Dale's ilk is no better than she ought to be, and I shouldn't like you to be compared with one of those women – sister dear."

"Sulien!"

Sioned's face flushed with anger, and, recoiling as though she'd been slapped, she ripped her arm away from Sulien's grip, flouncing away from her father and brother and out of the kitchen. Hot, angry tears burned at the back of her eyes, and she set off with a brisk stride to her step, out from the kitchens, servant's quarters and the Hall itself. Damn Sulien, damn him and his stupid allegations and his damnable friends –

"Oh!"

Sioned's angry thoughts and her walk came to a sudden and rather unexpected halt as she crashed into another body walking in the opposite way. There was a brief scuffle, arms and legs fumbling into each other, until the other person grabbed her with unnecessary strength and propelled her backwards.

"Oh, it's you," Will rolled his eyes, setting her firmly back on her feet, "Sorry."

"Sioned," Allan made a face and shot a Look at Will, while retreating backwards to a safe distance behind the other outlaw, "I told you we should have gone home the other way."

She didn't know whether to laugh, cry or swear at the interruption. Managing a slightly choked yell, Sioned pushed forwards with all her strength, sending Will stumbling backwards into Allan, "Can't you watch where you're going, you clumsy idiot?" She demanded angrily, "Can't you people…._ever_ watch what you're doing?"

"I said sorry," The outlaw attempted feebly, slightly stunned by Sioned's outburst.

"Well that's not good enough!" She blurted out wildly, enjoying the alarmed looks that Allan and Will were shooting each other, serving to fuel her anger even more. The fact that she seemed to be loosing her grip on reality was completely lost on her, "You people c-can't just go..._asking_ people's fathers about marriage, and _calling_ people…horrible stuff and go walking into people and then expect to say _sorry_ and be f-forgiven like that!"

Allan's blue eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

"I mean, you just _storm_ in, with no respect for anyone else's feelings and _walk_ into people without a care in the world, and _asking_ people's fathers….asking people's fathers…" Sioned stopped talking and looked up at Will, whose bewildered features had smoothed out into understanding. The expression of knowing sympathy made her blood stop boiling and freeze, "Goodbye." Turning on her heel, she hitched up her skirts and ran.

There was a brief silence, ended by a heavy sigh from Allan, "Barking. Always knew she'd crack eventually," He clapped his young friend on the back, "Home, then?"

Will, who had been staring after Sioned distractedly, shook his head, "You go. I'll be back in a moment," Without waiting for an answer, he headed off towards the stables, where Sioned had fled a few moments ago.

"What? _Will_! I'm….I'm not supposed to abandon fellow gang members to certain death!"

Ignoring Allan's protests, and his own misgivings, Will slipped past the busy stable boy an into the stables themselves, coughing slightly at the mixed smell of horses, dust and hay. The stalls were dark and musty, but well kept; Guy of Gisborne saw the advantages of having fit and healthy horses – and used them often to their disadvantage, he admitted with a grimace. Weaving his way between the posts, and praying that he wasn't interrupting a trysting couple, Will caught sight of the outline of a figure, too short and slender to be Gisborne's groom, and put a hand nervously on the person's shoulder.

Sioned spun round from where she'd been nuzzling her face into Gisborne's prize stallion's nose, shock mixed with fury, "What are you doing here? Get out!"

"And leave you to stew in your own anger?" Although not incredibly knowledgeable about horses when it came to quality and breeding, Will had to admit that Gisborne's stallion was a fine beast. The hide flowed like molten steel over powerful muscles and strong bones, glossy and black. He patted the horse's nose, and was gratified with a slight snort, the horse raising his head to smell the new stranger's hand, "He's a fine horse."

Stepping away from Will, Sioned encircled the horse's neck with her arms, pressing her face into the animal's hide. Her voice was slightly muffled when it came out, "His name's Cylu. Sir Guy takes special care of him." And no doubt you do too, Will thought with carefully veiled amusement. Although she could barely tell the difference between a hack and a warhorse, Sioned had a definite love for horses, the adventure that came with riding one, "Sometimes…sometimes I come in here when no-one will miss with me…just to sit with him."

"He seems to provide good companionship," He remarked wryly.

Sioned turned around from the comfort of Cylu's neck, glaring at Will, "A good deal better than present company!"

"Or Godwin Taylor?" Sioned made a stifled noise and made to move away from him, but Will's reactions were too quick, and he grabbed her wrist, forcing the young woman to turn back, "I know that he's been asking after you with your father, I just thought…"

"What? Thought what?"

Will made a half hearted shrug, "I thought you deserved better. I just…thought you deserved someone better than Godwin." Inside, he had to restrain himself from making a face. Godwin Taylor; egoistic, smug Godwin Taylor. For all his disapproval of Sioned, he couldn't imagine her being happy with a man like Godwin, being bound to a man like Godwin. It would be more like the ties of captivity than the ties of marriage, "I at least thought…I thought you'd end up with someone who'd let you be your own woman with. To drive into madness, anyway," He added hastily.

Sioned's face had twisted at Will's words, before relaxing, leaning her head against Cylu's back, "Maybe. I thought I did too," She sighed, "I do not like him going behind my back and scurrying to my father and brother, currying their favour in order to get to me. If he even cared, he'd face me on his own two feet," She shook her head, making a choked noise. Will got the impression that Sioned was trying not to cry, "And he wouldn't make assumptions of me just because I spend time with others…others who I certainly have no design on!"

And there it was; the crux of the matter. If her pride hadn't been hurt so much by these 'assumptions', Will severely doubted that Sioned would have gotten into such a state, "And that's what all this is about?"

"Maybe. Oh, I don't know!" Sioned brought her hand down sharply against one of the wooden poles with a loud smack, almost trembling with fury, "I'm sick of it all."

Will sighed, before stepping forward, tentatively slipping his arms around Sioned's shaking body and pulling her into an awkward embrace. After a single moment's hesitation, Sioned almost collapsed into Will, pressing her face into his chest and shaking with emotion, going through the actions of crying without actually shedding a tear. Will realised he'd never seen Sioned cry, ever since her mother had died seven years ago.

Rocking the young girl gently, and without more than a hint of trepidation, Will tenderly lifted a hand up and stroked it through Sioned's loose hair; the headscarf that had bound it to her head having coming unloose during her flight. If she married Godwin Taylor; she'd have to bind her hair up in a wimple and keep it hidden from view, he thought with a hint of distaste, her lovely red hair hidden from view. Only to be seen by the man who shared her life – and her bed. The thought sent a wave of possessiveness sweeping through him that shocked him slightly, and Will's grip on Sioned tightened slightly. Only slightly – he knew what short shrift he would receive from Sioned – and besides, she didn't seem to notice. Her trembles had stilled to a slight stirring, her face still hidden from view and pressed against his shirt. Will swallowed, the hot, thick air of the stables suddenly pressing in too close for comfort, the silence deafening in his ears. The absence of any other people was horribly and awkwardly apparent; the fact that he was alone, with Sioned in his arms, in the most obvious trysting place in Loxley was burning into his mind. It would only take a few moments to lower his head and kiss…The possibilities made Will swallow again. This wanting and at the same time not wanting something was far too difficult to bear, certain sensations playing through his stomach. Struggling with the temptation, as if on a knife edge, Will cursed silently under his breath.

It was just…time alone in the forest, with a band full of men, and no women. Truth be told, women had been a mystery up to becoming an outlaw as well, but…all the same. That was the only reason for his thoughts. Swallowing for a third time, his throat suddenly constricted, Will stepped back rather abruptly, almost walking into Cylu as he did so, "Erm….I think…"

"Sioned? Where are you, sweetheart?"

_Sweetheart_? Will mouthed the words with disgust, a grimace appearing on his face too quickly to be brushed away. Beside him, Sioned stiffened, her eyes widening slightly in shock. Godwin Taylor's voice had made itself known in no uncertain terms.

"Get out of here," Sioned whispered, her voice low and harsh.

"_What_?"

Her hand shot out, hitting him sharply on the shoulder, "What will Godwin think if he sees us in the stables? Now just – _hide_ somewhere!"

"Why do _I_ have to be the one to hide?" Will demanded sharply.

Sioned shot him an anguished look as the sound of heavy footsteps got louder, "_Please_, Will!"

Gritting his teeth, Will nodded, and pulled himself up onto one of the walls of the stalls, balancing precariously in the shadows. If he didn't loose his balance, at least, he'd be relatively safe….and if he didn't, he'd only fall into a pile of hay. It wasn't _that_ bad…

"Sioned, are you in here?"

Cursing vividly, Sioned gave Cylu one last pat and looked out from the shadows, "What d'you want, Godwin?"

Godwin's large, bear-like form came into view, his stance all the more intimidating simply because the stables did not seem big enough to contain him. As big as an ox – and as stupid as one too, Will thought with an uncharacteristic surge of maliciousness, as Godwin shuffled his feet slightly, studying the ground. At least _I_ don't act like a complete blathering idiot whenever I'm talking to a girl – most of the time. And….erm….not that I would want to act really confident in front of Sioned because that would just be….wrong.

"I just wanted to talk," Godwin's dark brown eyes were fixed determinedly at his boots, as if he found them infinitely more interesting than Sioned, "I…I assume that your father has….well, that is to say, I was wondering…not that you have to give me an answer straight away….but I was wondering….if…your father has….spoken….to….you yet."

Sioned's spine had straightened like a lance. Proudly bearing herself well, she shot a furious glare at the unfortunate Godwin, "Why? He is not the one who has an interest in me, is he?"

"Sioned, I…"

"Just go home to your kennel, faithful bloodhound!"

_Nice one, Sioned_, Will couldn't help grinning smugly as Godwin started in shock. Something not entirely unlike pride was stirring inside him.

"Sioned, I can…." Godwin turned on the spot and followed Sioned a few paces as she moved to the stable door, not going so far as to grab her or make her stay, "Sioned I know you only think of me as your brother's friend. But I can look after you….I-I can provide for you…"

Sioned's lips compressed as she turned to look at Godwin, her hand resting firmly on the stable, "Maybe I might need someone to drive into madness," She said quietly. Will's stomach gave a jolt, "I'll talk to you later."

Will stood, almost frozen to the wall, as Sioned turned on her heel and left. After a few moments standing in rejected silence, Godwin left too, and he was able to breath easily. The first breath he took was shaky, and tremulous.

Well. That had been…interesting. It didn't have to mean….what he thought it meant though, did it? Of course it didn't. That would just be stupid. Very stupid. ridiculous. Because of course that wasn't what she meant….Of course. _Don't be ridiculous Scarlett_, he thought to himself (in a voice which was horribly reminiscent of Sulien's), _of course she wouldn't go for a man like you…_

**And why should that bother him?** Another voice, brisk, no-nonsense and oddly Marian-esque, said. **He doesn't even care about the girl! **

_Oh, of course he doesn't_, The voice, which sounded now like Sulien, Allan and the Sheriff combined, had an odd edge to it. As thought it was smirking. _Then how do you explain The Hug just now?_

**Well….**Marian Voice was sounding uncertain, **He was just being a gentleman. You know. Comforting her.**

Will nodded quickly, vaguely aware that he was nodding to an answer that only he could hear and it was a mercy that no-one else could see him.

_Oh really_? Allan/Vasey/Sulien sounded smug. _Thinking of trysts in stables certainly don't **sound** gentlemanly to us. _

**Well….**

_And he was jealous of Godwin Taylor. Explain **that** away._

Marian Voice gave up, **You might just be right**.

Indignantly, Will opened his mouth to protest, remembered that it was only his thoughts that were turning against him, and sighed, burying his head in his hands.

And, distracted, overbalanced, toppling into the pile of freshly raked hay underneath him.

Today was just not his day.

-0-0-0-

Much looked down to glare at his fellow, grinning outlaws, "Why, exactly," He said, in a voice that was ice cold with dignity, "do _I_ have to be the one in the tree?"

"Because it's damn funny," Allan retorted. He was answered with a cuff around the head from Djaq, and a pinecone dropped on his head from Much. The manservant made a face at Allan – well, Allan's _head_, anyhow – and turned back to the tree branch he was currently perched on, clinging for dear life.

Ambushes he didn't mind. Ambushes he could _deal_ with. What he _couldn't_ deal with was being perched halfway up a bloody tree when that happened, "Look, I don't see what the point of me being half way up a tree is, master."

Robin rolled his eyes, "Much, I _told_ you! We need someone to warn us when a Noble approaches! This is the perfect lookout spot!"

"What's the point of that?" Much wailed pointedly, "Surely when you _see_ the Noble you'll know he's here!"

There was a series of groans from the other outlaws, and Allan threw the pinecone back up at a grumbling Much; just as the entourage Much had spotted came into view. Hushing the gang, Robin crept to the fore, bow at the ready.

A normal, everyday group, he decided complacently – soldiers, stable boys, and a single, spindly legged squire, led by a young Noble at the head. A rich blue cloak covered the rest of him; his body was clad in good, fine-cut clothes, and the horse was of the very best quality. The man himself was only a little taller than the average height, with sharp features and shoulder length, brown hair. Clearly another spoilt younger son, who deserved to be picked off quickly, Little John thought to himself as he stood behind Robin, quarterstaff gripped firmly in his hands. So why was Robin delaying?

Allan tapped their leader on the shoulder, "Robin? You want me to fire a warning signal?"

Robin waved his hand, "No. Let him pass."

"_What_?" Little John pushed past Friar Tuck, Will and Allan to grab Robin by the shoulder, "Let him _go_?"

"Yes. Whatever you find in Arnault de Remy's saddlebags, it will not be sacks of money."

Will, who had been brooding to himself quietly, looked up, "You know him?"

"Only slightly," Robin shrugged, watching the young man pass, "He was due to come with us to the Holy Lands to fight alongside King Richard when his father died of the bloody flux. He stayed behind to look after his lands in. Nevertheless, he's a good man; and one who supports King Richard at that. He's been almost as much of a thorn in the Sheriff's side as I have."

Much snorted with amusement, "Is that possible?"

Allan, still annoyed at having been deprived of the loot, scowled, "What's he coming here for? I'm not being funny, but those soldiers aren't here to guide him through the forest for a picnic. Is he going to the castle?"

"I don't know," Watching Arnault de Remy's retreating entourage, Robin got the first stirrings of misgiving in his stomach, "But I wouldn't put it past the Sheriff to be doing something about his prescence."

-0-0-0-

Sulien Thornton detached himself from the curvaceous milk maid he currently had his arms around, albeit extremely reluctantly. Her name was Julitta, and she had thick, long hair the colour of corn. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in those fine tresses, but he restrained himself with a longing shudder. Later, perhaps, when he had less work to be done, and Julitta didn't have the bothersome troubles of her father searching for her. The young woman smiled up at him, dimples appearing in the corners of her mouth.

"I'll call for you later," He muttered hoarsely, placing a kiss against her cheek, before delving into his pocket. When his hand came out, a pretty beaded necklace came out too. It was not priceless, but still, it did _not_ look cheap, "Wear this for me when I come back."

Julitta's green eyes widened, "How did you afford something like this?" She gasped, fixing it around her neck.

Sulien tapped her nose, winking, "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies, lass. There's a good girl. Now be off with you, your poor father will be out of his wits with worry."

As they parted company, Sulien couldn't help a slight spring in his step. There would be another job done tonight; and that, plus the prospect of an obliging young lass in his arms later, made him _very_ happy.

"Where did you get that necklace?" A very sharp voice demanded.

The young man cursed, turning around to face his younger sister as she approached him, her eyes glinting suspiciously, "Talking to me now, are you?" He snapped, "Besides, I bought it fair and square, no thefts involved."

"Well then, where did you get the coin?"

After a few moments of frowning, Sulien relaxed slightly. Sioned was a good sister; he could trust her enough not to go running to their Father; or worse, Gisborne. Besides, he missed their companionship of late. Perhaps now would be a good time to regain that same friendship…

"As soon as Hannah's asleep tonight, dress in lad's clothing – don't look at me like that, I know you have some stashed away – and meet me at the back of the stables. And for heaven's sake, don't be late."

Sioned's face creased up in confusion, "What's going on, Sulien?"

Rolling his eyes, Sulien chucked his little sister under the chin, "All in good time, sister dear. Just wait and see."

* * *

Thanks to: StargazingBasketCase (lol don't worry! Rabid ships amuse me….at the moment my most rabbidy ship has to be Much/Djaq, because I just think they would be too cute for words…or maybe I just can't bear to think of Allan or Will getting together with her. Ah well….Have fun dodging PE!) AngelsShadow816 (thanks! I swear that they should give Gisborne a costume like that, just for him to 'blend in' with the forest….I can see Vasey making him wear that….) RixxiSpooks (I LOVE THAT SONG!! Lol, good ol' innuendos. And good ol' jealous Will….he is fun to write….)inflatabletigers (lol….either that or Will and Sioned need to hit each other with something very heavy…) kenshinroks2111 (ooh, did you have a good time? I agree with the creepy Gisborne thing…but then he always seems to be creepy….) Forever A Fool of Fortune (lol thanks! I love Will and Allan….dunno who I love best, really….) scully42 (hmmm…..just give me Allan and Will and I'll be happy) YouLuvMeCosImCrazy (thanks a lot!!)

I'd talk more (mostly despairing of my characters, who seem to be slightly...mad) but tea calls, so, until next time, people!


	10. Chapter 10: Inebration and Intrigue

**A/N**: Oops, sorry for the late update...Summer hols been jam packed. Anyhoo, here is another chappy for all you lovely people who put up with my mad ramblings.

This one's particularly for StargazingBasketCase, who kinda...got a little bit crazed after the almost-kiss in the last chapter. I really shouldn't encourage her...

**Chapter Ten: Inebriation and Information**

If Guy of Gisborne had been in his usual place in Loxley Hall the following night, then while sitting in the main hall with little else to occupy himself with, he would have heard some very unexpected, but quite familiar, voices. As it was, only the stray hound that hung around the kitchens heard, who listened with one ear and then rolled over lazily in the dirt, and began to dream of scraps and bones.

"Ow!"

"What's the matter with you now?"

"You stepped on my foot, that's what's the matter! Can't you watch where you're going?"

"It's dark out here, alright? Calm down! Everything's going to be fine, Sioned, just wait and see."

"Fine? _Fine?!_ We've just stolen – _you've_ just stolen – and now we're going to – with all the guards in Nottingham patrolling – and you say everything will be _fine_?"

"Good Lord, woman, it's not that big a crime. Just like your dear friends in the forest; it's just like them."

"We're being like Will and Allan? Oh, well, _that's_ alright then."

-0-0-0-

It was not a good night for blindly walking about in the dark. Six figures, hooded and cloaked, stood uneasily by the door of the Trip to Jerusalem inn, hidden by the dark more effectively than their cloaks; a sense mystery and intrigue and quiet menace surrounding them.

One figure, hooded and cloaked, hopped uneasily beside them.

"You could have watched where you were putting your feet," Much grumbled indignantly to Allan as he held his injured foot tenderly in one hand and massaged it steadily, "It's not _that_ dark, you didn't have to _squash_ my poor foot like that…"

"Will you shut up?"

"You've got bloody big feet too…" The young man continued, determined to be undeterred.

"Yeah," The typical A Dale smirk resumed itself on Allan's face, "And you know what big feet mean, don't you Much?"

"Yes. It means you wear big boots, which squash my feet even _more…_"

Allan gave up.

Next to him, Robin shifted quietly from one (uninjured) foot to another, his hand resting quietly on the sword that hung at his side. If everything went well tonight, he wouldn't have to use it. All they were after was information – that, and a drink for Allan, who could be unbearable without his weekly dose of alcohol – so there was no chance of any kind of trouble. Still, the outlaw leader admitted grimly to himself, the gang was starting to get a slight reputation for trouble…no matter where they went, trouble just seemed to follow…

It _wasn't_ his fault. Realising that the excuse didn't even fool himself, Robin made a face, looking across at Will, who had been peering through the crack in the door for any signs of the castle guards, "Will?"

The youngest outlaw shook his head. Although there were no signs of any guards or soldiers, a pained look had flittered across his countenance for a split-second, "Are you sure about this, Robin? Couldn't we just meet with Marcus somewhere else?" A note of pleading had entered his voice, "_Please_?"

"Any other meeting place would increase suspicion towards Marcus," Robin hissed back, "He's valuable, Will, we can't afford that to happen."

"I know, but I'm always the one who has to handle Allan when he's drunk…"

Little John rolled his eyes, and bent down to push Will gently through the open doorway, "Worry about it later," The giant ordered, stepping back to let Robin sneak in after Will, "Now – _in_."

The rest of the gang clustered behind the three as Robin led the way through the dimly lit inn. The establishment was not the most pleasant place to be, the outlaw leader thought grimly to himself as he sidestepped a small man clutching a big, half-empty ale tankard to himself; although late in the evening, the place was still full of rowdy patrons clustered around the fire or around tables. Pausing to pull an interested looking Allan away from the two young women staring invitingly up at him, Robin wove his way through the crowd, making sure to keep his hood up, until he found Marcus Baldwin sitting in a corner by himself, looking furtively around him. Grinning, the younger man dropped down on the seat opposite him, "Good evening, Marcus."

Jumping slightly, Marcus managed a weak grin in return, before continuing to run his finger around the rim of his tankard nervously. Letting Little John and Much sit down on either side of him, Robin put his head to one side, staring at Marcus closely, "Anything wrong?"

The weak grin became considerably weaker, "No…Robin, you know I cannot be seen to speak with you…"

"So don't come!" Allan retorted rather sharply than he would usually do. He was in a bad mood – he had been pulled away from the women, Will had point blank refused to let him have a drink, and the sight of Eleanor's betrothed was cutting deeper into his skin than he cared to admit, "Don't come at all if you're going to be a coward."

Holding a hand up to placate the outlaw, Robin waited until the rest of the gang had clustered behind him before speaking, "Marcus. You regularly visit the castle with deliveries of cloth. If there is anything you have heard that would be of use to us…"

Chewing at his lip, Marcus stared into space for a few minutes, while Robin's nerves went above and beyond breaking point. Tapping his fingers against the side of his tankard anxiously while Marcus pondered his position. Behind him, he could feel Djaq shifting position slightly, and Much's uneasy intake of breath, even above the loud singing that had begun, and the raucous shouts as a game of dice was set up. Nearly every outlaw was strung with tension – what was Marcus hiding from them? The young man's face was uneasy and blanched; a far cry from his usual merry self.

After what seemed like an age of Marcus's thoughts, both Little John and Allan had had enough. A severely imposing sight, Little John rose sharply to his feet, intending to shake some sense into the weak young man, but Allan got there first. Leaping to his feet, he leant across the table and caught Marcus swiftly by the lapels of his tunic, half-dragging him back across the table with him as he shook him roughly, "Look, every one of us has risked our necks to hear what you have to say," The Southener growled, his shakes beating out the rhythm of his words, "So, if you don't want to be a piece of wolf bait, you'd better talk!"

Only the beard over his mouth hid Little John's smile. Roy, God bless him, would have been proud.

Robin was not so amused. Amid Friar Tuck's stifled, disapproving cough, he half-rose himself, reaching across to bat Allan's hands away from Marcus's neck. As the young man, spluttering and coughing, staggered back into his seat, Robin shot a warning look at Allan, "We're all friends here," He snapped, ignoring Allan's muttered 'news to me'. He'd have to talk to Allan later and find out what was eating at him so badly, "Marcus?"

Massaging the back of his neck from where his tunic had dragged across it, Marcus's feeble smile was starting to look more like a grimace, "A tournament has been set as a celebration of the Sheriff's 'disciplined rule'," He announced, while the outlaws let out various sounds of disparagement, "Many of the Nobles from around the country are coming; there are even rumours of Prince John attending," Wincing, he looked up at Robin, "Your friend, Arnault de Remy, had a special invitation from the Sheriff, Robin. The Sheriff sent an invitation for de Remy to come and joust in the tournament, and straight on the day that it had been made official with the Council of Nobles. He was most insistent upon it. Wouldn't rest until the messenger had ridden out of Nottingham Castle."

"Impossible," Robin frowned, bewildered, "The Sheriff hates Arnault; he wouldn't want him to come within several leagues of Nottingham."

"I'm just telling you what I know."

The outlaw sighed. Every time they heard a scrap of news, it was always the same; rumours and tall tales about the upcoming tournament, nothing solid or concrete, just more winding trails leading nowhere. He was starting to feel truly sick of the whole thing, "Thanks Marcus. You don't have to stay with us any longer."

"Yeah, push off," Allan, who wasn't feeling any better from his attempt at murdering Marcus thwarted, grumbled.

As a relieved looking Marcus slid out of his seat, through the crowd and out into the night, Much turned to an extremely weary looking Robin. It only just occurred to him that Robin was looking more tired than ever at the moment. Although lines and creases had yet to grace his face, there was a definite shadow cast over his features, and his posture was slumped, defeated, "Master? Why would the Sheriff want Arnault de Remy specifically to ride in the tournament?"

"I don't know," The three words were agony to force out this time; so infuriated was Robin to admit that he didn't have a clue as to what was going on. Groaning, he leant his head into his hands as Djaq and Friar Tuck sat down opposite them. He was feeling far too worn these days, "Little John; go and get us some drinks. I want to get very, very drunk."

-0-0-0-

The Sheriff of Nottingham looked up from the pieces of parchment he held clutched tight in his hand as his lieutenant walked in heavily; looking extremely put out, "Well?"

"Arnault de Remy has arrived, my lord. I directed him to the rooms in the North Wing; he should be out of the way in there."

Vasey gritted his teeth until they felt like they'd been ground to a fine powder, "I wonder if putting a hedgepig in his bed would disturb his sleep." There had been some particularly sharp looking hedgepigs in the castle's courtyard this morning, he recalled; curled up into a ball with the oh-so sharp bristles sticking out at every angle. It would be such a shame if on of those spines were to get caught in Arnault de Remy's foot…..He stood up suddenly, trying to remember where he'd seen them, "Stay, Gisborne," Making a vague motion with his hand, as one might to a dog, Vasey wandered off, vaguely wondering how he might catch a hedgepig without a net.

Raising an eyebrow, Gisborne was only too happy to take a swig from the Sheriff's abandoned goblet of wine, the shadows in the small room lengthening. In an hour or so's time he would have to accompany the Sergeant at Arms' patrol through the streets of Nottingham. He grimaced, remembering Vasey's order that he should do so. No doubt the man was resentful towards him for having to spend less time with de Remy than he did.

-0-0-0-

Will shot an extremely apprehensive look at Allan as he handed him another flagon of ale. He knew only too well what his best friend was like when he got drunk, and the look in Allan's eye seemed to indicate that he'd like to get drunk very much. Resisting the urge to make the sign of the cross against himself for his own protection, the youngest outlaw took hold of his own flagon and downed half of the amber liquid in one swig, gasping as it burned at his throat. He'd never been a big drinker, always letting Robin and Allan being the ones who got thoroughly and utterly sloshed, but tonight…

He shot a despairing look across the table at his fellow outlaws. Djaq, who was forbidden to touch alcohol, had nestled herself in between Much and Friar Tuck, something like a smirk dancing suspiciously across her face. Tuck, who was only too pleased to refrain from the drink to keep his new Saracen friend happy, was deep in a discussion with her; the two of them examining the similarities between their religions. On the other side of Djaq, Much, who in a desperate attempt to cheer Robin up by getting more drunk than he was, was swaying where he sat, a slightly stupid grin on his face. His smile faltered as a morose Robin took no notice of his attempt to cheer him up, and the manservant turned to talk to Djaq and Friar Tuck instead. Robin and Little John were looking as though they were seriously thinking about having a drinking match, something Will was horrified to note, and Allan, who had drunk the most out of any of them, had snapped out of his original gloomy stupor (which was mostly to do with moping about Eleanor) and was laughing at the entire proceedings.

Will looked glumly down at his flagon. Oh well, he thought blackly, if you can't beat them, join them, and downed the rest of his ale.

Feeling sullen, he stared blackly at the table, thinking back over the previous weeks. All in all, what with having the hell being punched out of him by Godwin Taylor, and finding out nothing about the Sheriff's plans, it hadn't been good.

Worryingly enough, Sioned had featured quite heavily in those past weeks.

Almost unable to stop his brain going down that road, Will kept glowering down at the table, almost unseeingly, as he thought back to their encounters. Sioned pushing him into the pond…admittedly, nothing new there. Several furious arguments… Sioned's hands at his face as she tended to his bruises from the fight with Godwin…Will's stomach flipped over at that memory, before turning over again as he remembered Sioned well and truly in his arms in Loxley stables, sobbing her heart out about that idiot, Godwin. She'd seemed so much more vulnerable than usual then…so much smaller and softer…

Will groaned, cursing under his breath as the very disturbing but quite delicious feeling of Sioned's body pressed against his returned to him almost vividly. It was far too hot in here, Will decided furiously, and attempted to take another drink, scowling as he realised it was already drunk.

His gloomy and increasingly suicidal thoughts were interrupted by a tug on the sleeve from Allan, "Cheer up, mate, migh' never happen," He slurred cheerfully. Allan really was interesting company when he got drunk; not to mention horribly cheerful and sometimes a bit too friendly if you didn't point him in the direction of a young woman before he got into his stride. Will made a mental note to find the young women Allan had been eyeing earlier.

Either that, or drop in on Eleanor as they went home. Making a face as he thought about what _that_ meeting would be like, Will sighed as Allan nudged him, "Come on. Up. More drink. Might find a few lasses for us, eh? Get that….red haired sort out of your head."

Will's head dropped onto the table. He would have given anything not to have heard those last two sentences. The mention of Sioned made him swear again, the room suddenly feeling too warm for comfort again.

Perhaps a drink _was_ in order.

-0-0-0-

Sioned Thornton was also not having the best possible time. Eyeing her brother warily as he continued to haggle and eventually sell off the silver goblets that he'd taken from Gisborne's room, she was starting to feel sick. She'd thought that her brother had been up to something, but this…

"You're an idiot," She hissed furiously, as he shot her a triumphant look, pocketing the coins he'd just been handed, "Stealing from your master, Sulien, if anyone caught you…"

"He's too greedy to notice a few cups," Sulien retorted, obviously miffed that Sioned wasn't enjoying their little enterprise as much as he was. He'd always considered his sister to be a daredevil; but now she wasn't having any fun, "Besides, they're probably not even his. I always check never to take anything with the Gisborne colours or crest on it. He's probably stolen them from some poor family whose silver was all they owned."

"And that makes it better?" She gasped, horrified at how flippantly Sulien was treating this.

"Yeah, of course! And my friends always sell the goods I provide them with on to new buyers," An irreverent, wicked grin passed across Sulien's face, "so they'll probably end up back in those poor family's possession, after all."

"You're truly charitable," Sioned sneered angrily, turning her back from where Sulien was sitting down, starting a game of dice with his 'business friends'. Almost trembling with fury, she looked around the main room of the Trip to Jerusalem inn, before finally seeking out the bar. Dressed as a boy, her figure securely swaddled with about fifteen or so different shirts and her hair bound out of sight, there was no harm in her going by herself to get a drink, and so she did, with more readiness than she usually did. Pulling the ale eagerly from the ale wife, Sioned settled herself at the bar next to a pair of young men who were quickly getting inebriated and sipped glumly at the drink.

Cupping the flagon close to herself as she breathed in the heavily intoxicating fumes of the ale, Sioned sighed heavily, casting an anxious glance every few seconds towards her brother. Sulien was growing so far apart from her, from her entire family…it was almost frightening how close to the edge he seemed to be living now. Stealing from Guy of Gisborne himself; if anyone caught him, if Gisborne himself found out about Sulien's thefts. So far Sulien had sulked and hidden behind their father's position as Steward in Gisborne's household; and because Thornton was so trustworthy, so loyal – and, Sioned thought bitterly, probably one of the few people who actually listened when Gisborne talked about important things – Gisborne valued him. And because he valued him so much, he did not punish his son too harshly. It was a massive break for people in their circumstances.

And now Sulien was throwing that chance away for the sake of a few pennies?

Sioned fumed silently as she stood at the bar, feeling more and more sullen with every passing minute. Sipping at her ale and making a face at the sharp taste, she rubbed her thumb against the edge of the flagon, looking at the crowds in the room. A motley crew, she thought glumly – whores, drunks, gamblers, thieves, giants ….Sioned frowned, and took a second glance at the table that she'd been idly eyeing a few moments before. All perfectly normal looking people; except for the one man who looked…well, _taller_ that the others.

That drunk pair of young men beside her _had_ looked horribly familiar…

With something akin to horror beginning to show in her expression, Sioned slowly turned round to see Allan A Dale, his arms wrapped tightly around the waists of two very pretty and extremely full-bodied young women, talking across to Will Scarlett, who was managing to hold a flagon of ale in one hand and another young woman in his arms at the same time.

If Sioned hadn't been so furious, stunned and panicked at the same time, she might have been rather impressed.

As she wasn't, she pulled her hood further up across her face to make sure all of her features were hidden, before spinning around to face the other way, clutching her ale tightly and trembling with suppressed anger; her head reeling slightly with the sudden turn of events.

So, _they_ were here, were they? And getting extremely drunk, obviously. Well, that was just brilliant. Just what she really needed, a bunch of extremely drunk outlaws on her hands. A bunch of extremely drunk and extremely troublesome outlaws. And she wasn't even going to think about what Will was doing. With that girl. In his arms. A very pretty young woman, as a matter of fact. Sioned sneaked another look at her. She was very pretty. And very blond, the redhead thought blackly. And very…curvaceous.

She's almost bursting out of her dress, the cynical part of her thought uncharitably.

Drumming her fingers against the bar, Sioned spun around again to turn her back on the five of them. He was talking with that girl, who was giggling horribly at everything he said! She was wearing a brilliantly scarlett dress that seemed to be at least two sizes too small! And blue ribbons in her hair!! His arms were so tightly wrapped around her that the two of them seemed to be merging into each other!! She was taking swigs of ale from _his_ ale flagon!!!

How could he stand there and do that?!?

Attempting to breathe easily, Sioned took another furious gulp of ale from her flagon, and ordered another drink. Her voice remained steady, which was a remarkable feat because her head felt like it was on fire.

Who did he think he was, drinking with another woman?

Out of the same flagon, nonetheless, her cynical side added bitterly.

How could he just stand there, acting as if having his arms wrapped around that…that…floozy was a normal thing to do? That was bad! That was as bad as…as….as…..

Well, as bad as stealing from Lord Gisborne, that was for certain.

And as for drinking out of the same flagon, well…

_How dare he?!_ Sioned demanded of herself furiously. _How bloody well **dare** he? _

**It's just Will Scarlett.** A little voice, which sounded like a disapproving Djaq, told her calmingly, **It's nothing special. **

_Yes well_, Sioned thought furiously, almost shaking with fury,_ He still shouldn't do it!_

**Why not?** Djaq asked innocently.

_Because…well, because!_

**You really do need to calm down. **

_Calm down? How can I calm down? How can I calm down when they're drinking out of the same flagon?_ Sioned demanded. _How dare he drink out of the same flagon?_

Halfway through her third flagon of ale, and feeling entirely unused to it, Sioned took a deep, albeit shaky breath, and unclenched her fist, biting at her lip. Well. That was just…fine. If Will wanted to spend time with that….young lady, then that was fine. Brilliant, in fact. Perfect. He could do whatever he liked. It didn't matter to her. Not at all.

As she thought that, a nudge at her back sent her staggering forwards. It was only after she'd gotten her balance, head spinning slightly, that she realised Will and his 'companion' had stumbled backwards slightly, and were now attempting to stand up straight. While Allan and his own two women chuckled indulgently, the young woman was giggling at her slip – a horribly grating sound, Sioned thought furiously. As she slightly fumed, she realised that the stumble had caused the happy couple to be much closer to her, their voices now audible through the raucous noise that the other patrons were making.

"It's far too crowded here," The young lady explained; her voices surprisingly husky and low. Sioned bristled, "And far too loud," A note of suggestion entered her voice, and she pressed herself even closer to Will, "We could go somewhere more private, if you like."

That did it.

Sioned's jaw dropping, she spun around on the spot, hands on hips and grey eyes blazing, "Alright, that's _it_!" She snapped furiously, pushing herself in between the two small groups, ignoring that starts of surprise from all three women, "Will Scarlett, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

Allan was drunk, but not so drunk that he didn't recognise that tone of voice, "Hey, look who it is!" He exclaimed cheerfully, his words slurring loudly by now, "Will, it's ol'….ol' what's-'er-face," The outlaw leaned forward, taking in Sioned's disguise, "Or is that ol' what's-'_is_-face?"

Sioned glared at him, "And _you_! You're just as bad!" She yelled, her own words coming out thickly, "You're….you're being a bad influence on him, and leading him astray! That's…that's what you're doing!"

One of Allan's girls, a tall, raven haired beauty that was by no means as curvaceous as her companions, but incredibly slim and long legged, took a long look at Sioned. Allan's companions had been drinking all evening, and through the drunken haze in front of her eyes, the tall young woman saw only an irritably young man, his hood drawn up across his face. Not tall and strong like Allan or Will, but slim, fair featured. She reached out to touch 'his' arm, her voice a veritable purr, "Come and join us, sir, will you?"

Sioned's look of fury turned to one of panic, "What?" She squeaked.

"There's plenty of room for another one," Her tone even more seductive, she pulled away from Allan to slip her arms around a horrified looking Sioned, "I'm sure there's a few things you'd like to learn."

Backing away, Sioned managed to untangle herself and put Will in between her and the girl, "There's a couple of things you wouldn't like to learn, yourself!" She protested, practically using Will as a shield.

Will himself was feeling increasingly bemused with the events as they began to unfold. Having begun to feel increasingly morose about their situation, and the thought of Sioned coming to his mind more than could have been healthy, he'd quite willingly followed Allan to the bar, taking refuge in the alcohol that his best friend had plied him with. Having watched Allan grab two young women, one tall brunette and another, extremely vivacious-looking red-head had made Will feel even more depressed. The sight of Allan's arm around the red-head's body, his face pressed up against her hair, had just reminded him more of his best friend's previous dalliance with Sioned. He'd felt thoroughly sick.

And then that other girl – what was her _name_? Bragnae? Beatrice? Something like that…Anyway, she'd come up to him, and he'd been feeling so miserable, and so lonely, and above all so _drunk_ that it had seemed almost like a relief to let her slip into his arms and start to flirtatiously tease him…And then _Sioned_, of all people, had turned up. She looked extremely diminished and plain compared to the other girls – Miriel, Rohese and…_Bridget_! _That_ was her name! Sioned had looked so small and plain compared to her; but she had that same fiery look of absolute fury in her grey eyes. Will swallowed. He didn't know why, but he felt like he should be apologizing to Sioned, for…something. But honestly, he hadn't done anything _wrong_; he'd just been feeling so low, and so alone, watching his best friend with all the girls, as usual; and it had just been a relief to have Bridget with him, and it had felt so good to have her body in his arms…

And now Sioned was glaring lividly at him, and he was beginning to wish he was dead.

"_You_," She said coldly, before turning to Allan, "_Both_ of you, need to come with me. Come on, come on!" She snapped, grabbing them both by the arm and jerking them out of their respective partner's arms – the red-headed Rohese gave a slight mewl of protest – before pulling them along to the table where a sober Tuck and Djaq, and a smashed Robin, Much and Little John, sat, "I believe these…people belong to you?"

Djaq looked up from where she'd been watching a drunk Robin trying to arm wrestle an equally drunk Little John, grinning slightly as she saw who they were, "Oh, good evening Sioned," She said politely, examining the put-out expressions of Allan and Will, "Erm…yes, I believe they do."

Sioned let go of Allan to smack Djaq, and then Friar Tuck, on the shoulders, "You…you let them get drunk!" She exclaimed, "How could you? You…bad Friar! An' equally bad….other person!"

Friar Tuck raised his eyebrows, "Sioned, are you drunk?"

"N-no," Sioned protested, before turning to glare at Djaq, "And I _am_ calmed down, thank you very much!"

"I….never said you weren't."

"Oh….well then…." Embarrassed, Sioned looked across at Will, who was now staggering slightly, "Come on, you, I'm getting you sobered up," Fuming still, she grabbed him by the tip of the ear ("_Ow!_ Ow! Sioned, let go of me!") and hauled him off out the back.

"Poor little sod," Allan mused, sitting down and taking a swig from Little John's forgotten ale, the owner too busy pressed Robin's arm into the table, "And so young."

Djaq looked up, "Shut up Allan."

-0-0-0-

Will yelped with protest as Sioned, with all the grim determination of Gisborne once he'd got into his stride, yanked him out to the back of the inn, found a water butt, and dunked his head inside repeatedly for two minutes. Coughing and spluttering, Will finally managed to wriggle out of Sioned's fierce grip, and massaged his ear sullenly, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

"Well?" Sioned demanded, "Are you sober yet?"

Will thought for a moment, "Erm…no," He mumbled, "But I'm now wet," Looking both sullen and damp, he turned to glare at Sioned, "You're drunk too, y'know. I – I'll bet you're almost as drunk as me."

"I'm _not_ as drunk as you," Sioned retorted, pulling herself to sit precariously on the fence. She was still holding an almost full flagon of ale in her hand, "I'm….definitely not," Nodding decisively, she took a deep gulp from the flagon, and began to sway slightly from where she sat.

Will looked mournfully down at where his own flagon was clutched in his hand, completely empty, "I don't usually get this…this drunk, you know," He tried to explain.

"I know." _Gulp_. Sioned's words were becoming more slurred.

"N-not by any means. But tonight I was just feeling really depressed and….various other stuff," The outlaw made a grab for Sioned's flagon, "Give over."

The young woman snatched it away, "N…No. Won't," Her eyes became sharpened for a second, and when she next spoke, her voice held a note of hopefulness, "Is that why you were with….y'know. That girl. Too poor to afford a proper fitting dress. Very…" She made some appropriate gesture, "…well-groomed?" When Will didn't answer, she nodded, her eyes blurring slightly, and took another swig, "Do you think she's attractive? Deeply and meaningfully attractive, I mean."

"No-o-o," Will thought over it for a moment, "No. Amusingly and superficially attractive – yes. But deeply and meaningfully, no…"

"Good. I don't think so either," Having taken a final swig from her ale and flinging her flagon away, Sioned slid clumsily down from her perch on the fence, and neared Will, putting her mouth up to his ear as if departing some great secret, "Do you want to know a secret? _Sulien is…is selling stolen items of a Gisborne-taken nature to people in this inn_!"

Her breath tickled in the inside of his ear, Will thought. Too drunk to appreciate this information fully, he nodded shakily, "Really?"

"Y-yes. Really truly, cross my heart. He's in there now, selling and gambling. That's why I was getting so…so drunk," Sioned explained carefully, "I was so angry at him b-because….if Gisborne finds out, he'd kill him. He'd be so angry with Sulien for stealing from him….no-one takes Lord Gisborne for a fool," Her voice cracked slightly, the conspiratorial tone lost, and she wavered slightly, "Especially not Sulien. Not him. My big brother…" A choked sound came from her, and Will turned slightly to see Sioned looking more morose than he felt, holding back a hiccup and a sob at the same time, "An' then I saw you with that…_person_…"

Feeling guilty again, Will reached out to pat her shoulder, only to have her wriggle away from him, "Sion…Sioned, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" She stressed, her voice still strained, "I…I'm brilliant! Wonderful! I'm just a little bit tired, y'know?" Backing away, she managed to find the fence at her back, "I'll just….I'll just sit down here…"

Still attempting to smile, she put her hands out behind her, grabbed at the fence, tried to haul herself and succeeded in letting go halfway through and falling to the floor, giggling quietly.

Will winced, "Erm….you alright now?"

"Yup," Sioned nodded earnestly, holding out her hands, "Gimme a hand up."

Making a face, Will grabbed the drunk young woman by the arms and hauled her, staggering, to her feet. During her fall, her hood had fallen down from her face, and there was now no chance of anyone mistaking her for a boy. Slim features highlighted by the torchlight, Will saw that her red hair had been pulled back from her face and into a very tight and full bun at the back of her head. Before he could even think of what he was doing, the young man took hold of Sioned's shoulders and turned her round so her back was to him, "You…you shouldn't keep your hair tied back like that," He mumbled stupidly at the floor, "It looks silly on you…" Remarkably, Sioned didn't answer, having gone rigid when he'd turned her around, and so, extremely clumsily, Will reached out and attempted to untie the ribbons that were keeping her hair up.

It was a very awkward job, and after several, agonizing minutes of his fumbling with the ribbons, Will was utterly fed up with every single ribbon that was caught up in the young woman's hair. Gulping, he cursed under his breath every time Sioned shifted in position or his fingers brushed against the back of her neck. For two pins he would have dragged her into his arms right then; but he had to finish the job properly first. He forced himself to concentrate. Chewing at his bottom lip as another ribbon feel from his fingers onto the floor, he couldn't help sneaking a look at Sioned. She was now almost frozen still, her breathing harsh and deep; her eyes screwed tightly shut. Feeling completely stupid, but unable to stop what he was doing, Will concentrated solely on untying every rotten, stupid, bloody ribbon he could find, knowing that so much more depended on the moment than the loosening of Sioned's hair. Making a face, he saw that his fingers were now fumbling and slipping uncontrollably; and realized that it most likely wasn't only the drink causing his inept clumsiness.

Finally, the last ribbon came free, and Sioned's hair fell freely down her back. Feeling a slight leap of triumph, Will opened his mouth to speak to Sioned, only to see that she was now shaking uncontrollably. Feeling apprehensive, he quickly stole around to look at her from the front, "Sioned?" He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry, voice weak.

At least she'd opened her eyes, which was why Sioned averted them quickly, not wanting to see the look of utter bemusement on Will's face. Her bone marrow felt like it had been turned to fire, rooting her to the spot. She swallowed almost painfully; if this was desire, then it was both delicious and dangerous, and she had been completely unprepared for what it might do to her. Whatever small attraction she'd felt for Gisborne or Allan completely paled into significance. Forcing herself to look up, she shot a sharp, challenging look at Will, cocking her head to the side, her wits beginning to gather again, "Well?" She asked sharply, her voice quivering, frightened that her legs would no longer support her, "How do I look?"

Biting down on his lip so sharply that it bled, Will found himself unable to move or look away, his blood racing, heart pounding. There was no way that Sioned, or indeed any of the other patrons of the inn, would be unable to hear it. Letting out a shaking breath, he took the question seriously, looking at Sioned with her hair hanging loose and tangled. She did look lovely with her hair hanging down, "Much better," He managed to force out hoarsely, and this time did drag her into his arms, his mouth quickly finding hers.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, and, with Sioned's arms locked tightly around his neck, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair, seemed to crush every inch of air out of his lungs. His ale-fuddled brain wanted nothing more than to continue the kiss, and, his arms around Sioned, hands stroking up and down her back, causing her to shiver, and through her hair, Will easily obliged. Part of his mind, the slightly sober part that insisted he had never, _ever_ liked Sioned, was screaming out that Sulien was in the inn and he might easily come out and what ever pleasure Will was finding in exploring Sioned's ale-tasting mouth was all superficial and lust-addled anyway, and not worth his life and _whatthehellwashedoing?_ However, the much more desperate, more drunk and hormone addled part of his mind that had been secretly thinking of Sioned without the rest of his mind knowing, ever since she'd treated his bruises from Godwin, was more insistent, and putting up a much more compelling argument that no, he _should_ continue the kiss, and perhaps see about finding a much more private place to continue.

What few misgivings he might have had vanished as Sioned, a quiet moan escaping from the back of her throat, ran a hand lightly over his chest, before twisting a finger seductively around the strap that held his outlaw tag up. Feeling that there was not a reason in the world, up to and including Sulien's fury, that would stop the considerable ache at the pit of his stomach, Will groaned lustfully, and his hand slipped from where it had been pressing against her hip to under her shirt, the skin of her waist cold and delicious at the touch. Not a thing in this world, he vowed furiously, could distract him from how much he wanted her…

"Damn you!"

Springing apart as if a bucket of cold water had been poured on them both, Will and Sioned spun around to the inn. There was no sign of a vengeful Sulien, however, or anyone else. The voice was, however, considerably angry, and had sobered all the other patrons in the inn to a quiet murmur.

"You bloody little cheat!"

Heart racing, and gasping for breath, Will chanced a look over at Sioned. She too was breathing heavily, her shirt rumpled, hair messed and face flushed. Realising that he himself must have looked a bit of a sight, Will grimaced slightly. Well. This had made is it?"

Sioned looked up from where she'd been peering in through the open door to the inn, "I'm not sure," She muttered, "But I think my brilliant brother's got himself into a morsel of trouble."

* * *

**A/N**: Heehee!! I do have to torture them, don't I? Although perhaps that wasn't quite as evil as my usual punishments...but it's gonna get complicated. Y'know that Will's right.

I'm gonna have made a lot of people pleased by that, won't I? I won't mention the words 'false hope', I won't, I won't...

Thanks to: inflatabletigers (well, the Sulien killing may be just along the way, actually...) (Heehee! Gotta love the little voices in Will's head) kenshinroks2111 Yes, Gisborne is creepy. But that is what we love about him. Sorry for the lack of update...) scully42 (lol! I love writing the little voices far too much. Now I've given Sioned them too...) BlueSparx (Thanks! All will be revealed with the Sheriff, never fear, all will be revealed...in due course) RixxiSpooks (Oddly enough, the mouthing of 'sweetheart' made me laugh quite a bit too. I'm not entirely sure why, I think I have a rather strange sense of humour...but I agree, we should see what Will thinks more in the show...) meriamsherwood (awww thanks! I hope I kicked butt too...not sure that I did, but I do hope so...) AngelsShadow816 (yeah, Allan and Eleanor should get together...unfortunately I just love the Allan-torture. It's so much fun) DeanParker (aww thanks!) and StargazingBasketCase (Holy crap, woman, you give long reviews! Let's see if I can answer it all...Yes, Eleanor's crazy. She can't turn him down. We _do_ all love Will. Erm...sorry about the coke/keyboard spillage. I do love Sulien and Sioned too, they're far too wierd. Allan's insane. Will SHOULD have kissed Sioned, dammit! But we made up for it in this chappy. There should be a toga party thrown for the voices in Will's head. You do have a wierd mind. It was definitely _not_ Will's day. Vasey does suit the flat cap. And the intruige is fun. Finished! Wow, that was a long reply...)

Well, you guys know what to do. That little review button is longing to be used.

Until next time, mon amis!


	11. Chapter 11: Gambling and Gisborne

**A/N:** Wow, a relatively quick update from me this time...I'm suitably impressed...Sorry about the bad chapter, just serves as a bit of a link...

The 'city-is-a-woman' conversation between Robin and Allan was nicked from Guards! Guards! I just thought that was pretty funny.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Gambling and Gisborne**

One of the things Djaq enjoyed about the gang was that, eventually, after a particularly hard time in the fighting justice business, one of them would inevitably suggest sloping into an ale house to get thoroughly drunk. And, while she couldn't indulge, it was _brilliant_ watching them make complete fools of themselves. Her favourite time had been when a senseless Allan had proposed to an equally drunk Robin. It had taken some pretty quick thinking on her part to stop them sending Will off for a priest.

And as for the hangovers the next morning…Djaq was not a particularly sadistic or vengeful young woman, but watching five men, all with desperate hangovers, begging for something to put them out of their misery, was brilliant.

Which was why she was finding Robin and Allan's conversation so utterly amusing.

"We…we are going to find that Sheriff out, Allan, and d'you know what we're gonna do? We are gonna….sl-_slaughter_ him!"

"Right."

"Yeah. Because Nott-Nott…ingham is worth fighting for, y'know. This town. This town, Allan is a, is a, is a woman, 'Llan. A woman. Beautiful and ancient. Wort' fightin' for."

"'S woman?" Allan asked. He frowned, making a face, "'S huge, Rob. Got a castle innit. Lots of house 'n shops 'n other stuff."

"Ah ah ah," Robin grinned, waggling an unsteady finger at him, "Never…never said it was a _small_ woman, did I? Be fair, now."

Little John hiccupped.

This was the pride of Sherwood Forest. Djaq ducked her head to hide the smirk appearing on her face. Brilliant, really. Managing to stifle a giggle as Allan began to start a debate with Robin about whose round it was, she turned back to Much, who was glaring very sullenly at his tankard, "What's the matter with you?"

Much shrugged, almost toppling over in the process, "Nothin'. Well. Stuff. Silly stuff," He mumbled, regaining his balance, "Want to go home. Wouldn't even mind not having Bonchurch. Could stay at Locksley. Wouldn't mind."

Oh. Looking anxious, Djaq managed to put out a steady hand to pat Much on the shoulder, "You'll be able to go home soon, Much. Just…as soon as your King Richard returns," She reassured him, privately thinking that with the war in the Holy Lands continuing, their king had little chance of returning.

"That could take years!" Much protested glumly, as if reading her mind, "Years 'n years. What with the war. In t'Holy Lands," Looking even more morose, the young man's lower lip seemed to tremble slightly, "I dream 'bout it. Holy Lands. When 'm asleep. Horrible dreams."

Almost unconsciously, Djaq leaned forward to put an arm around her friend. Opposite her, Little John staggered to his feet and muttered something about a 'breath of fresh air'.

"Well. Not really dreams. Them….them horrible ones. Nightmares. Horrid. D-death and destruction and desert. Lots of it. An' Robin. Bein' stabbed. By Gisborne. 'N not waking up…" His voice faltered, and Much shook his head, his lower lip definitely shaking now, "Need 'nother drink."

The young Saracen reached out and put the tankard out of reach, "No you don't," she said firmly, before setting her arms around Much's shoulders. She'd never felt the need to give any of the other outlaws a hug before – but then none of them had confessed to having dreams about the war in the Holy Land either. And Djaq knew just how torturous the dreams were. Ignoring the words 'mother hen', and letting Much drop his head onto her shoulder, still sniffling bleakly, Djaq shot a glare at Robin, who aptly ignored it. Imagine having such a loyal friend as Much, who even fears for his master in his sleep, and never thanking him, she thought defensively, and made a promise to herself to make more of an effort with Much from now on, "You need to sleep. And to sober up."

Much nodded bleakly into her shoulder, before looking up hopefully, "When the King returns, you'll stay in England with us, won't you?"

Djaq froze. Not betraying a single emotion on her face, she nodded quickly, "Of course," She lied, "I couldn't leave any of you. Now rest; you need it."

And I need it too, Djaq thought grimly as Much's head fell back on her shoulder. Being sober could be hard work.

-0-0-0-

Little John staggered out of the ale house, clutching his head in one hand and his staff with the other. It was high time they started making their way back to the forest. His head throbbing, stomach lurching and legs completely unsteady, the older man was longing to crawl back to the relative peace and quiet of Sherwood Forest, curl up under the stars, in the dark, and wait for the world to stop spinning. Maybe he was just getting too old for this. Whatever reason, the small, sober part of his mind was seriously thinking about marching back into the inn, sling Robin over his shoulder and take him back to Sherwood. It would be an effective, quick method, anyway.

As Little John turned back to enter the inn again, his attention was caught by a couple, half-hidden in the shadows. Half-way through rolling his eyes indulgently, the said eyes widened as John realised he _knew_ the young man. _And_ the girl in his arms.

Well, well. Shaking his head, the man stumbled back into the inn. So, you saw something new every day then.

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, Robin was having fun. Having successfully brow-beaten Allan into believing that it wasn't his round (even though it _was_), he was now clutching his tankard, and singing a rather lewd song about an abbess and a sheriff. Surprisingly, Friar Tuck was joining in with extreme gusto.

"All together now!" Robin's voice reached a crescendo, "_And then they_…"

"Damn you!"

"Whassat?"

"You bloody little cheat!"

Blinking unclearly, Allan turned around and looked in the direction of the noise, "It is Sulien," He announced, "being threatened by a very angry looking crowd."

"Oh good."

Letting go of Much and wincing as his head flopped to the table, Djaq stood on the bench, trying to see over the heads of the growing, angry crowd, "He was playing dice," She murmured, "And his competitors don't seem to be very impressed. Does Sulien ever cheat at dice? Or any other game, for that matter?"

"All the time," Much mumbled into the wood, "He can't be bothered to learn the rules."

"That's not good," Djaq sighed, clambering back down to the ground, "What do we – oh, there you are."

Gasping for breath and looking extremely flustered, Will and Sioned had ran back to their table, Will almost tripping over Friar Tuck in his haste. Shock and anxiety had sobered Sioned up, and she was looking extremely panicky, "What's going on?" She demanded, "Sulien, where is he?"

"He's being lynched over there," Robin mumbled, his blue eyes staring unfocusedly at Will's messy hair and Sioned's rumpled shirt, "Where were you two?"

Sioned flushed, "Sobering up."

"You look in a right state, Sioned," Allan chuckled, swaying on his seat, "All…messy 'n…unkempt. Hair's hanging down too. Not meant to have it down."

"Oh shut up."

"Yeah, Allan, leave her alone," Will instructed, hitting his friend feebly on the shoulder.

The young woman whirled around to glare at the unfortunate young outlaw, "I don't need _you_ sticking up for me either; you've done enough!"

Will made a face, not visibly showing how much the last comment had stung.

Frowning, Djaq looked sharply between the two, her brown eyes calculating. There was definitely more to them than met the eye – Sioned was unusually edgy, even for her, and Will was looking more sullen than usual, glowering resentfully at the floor. Rolling her eyes, wondering when they would ever have a peaceful time here, she made an impatient motion, looking back at Sulien, who was looking more and more hemmed in.

"Will one of you please wake up and see sense?" She pleaded, "Sulien's in trouble, and – Sioned, don't!"

Robin made a fumbled grab for Sioned, but it was too late; slipping past the gang, she'd wriggled through the crowd to stand next to her brother. Djaq was incensed, "What are we going to do?" She yelped, "What are we going to _do_?"

"Nothing," Will retorted sourly, "Not me, anyway. Apparently _I've_ 'done enough'."

-0-0-0-

It had been a good night. All the goblets had been sold, at a fair price too. Safe and secure in the knowledge that, once again, he had gotten one over on his master, Sulien Thornton had settled down for a friendly game of dice with his numerous business contacts, two pretty girls watching the game going on. Under their solicitous flattering and wide-eyed stare, it had been easy for him to slip into his old habits and start cheating at the game.

Until he'd got caught.

Now his feet were barely touching the ground as one of his opponents, a thickset, beefy man who looked taller than Little John, seized him by the shirt and hauled up upwards.

"You think you could cheat me? _Me_?!" The giant demanded, to furious shouts of support from all around. The patrons of the Trip to Jerusalem inn enjoyed a fight, "I'll not be bested by a skinny little whelp like you!"

The two young girls had gone. Sulien tried to speak, but could only manage to force a gasp and a choke through the man's fingers, which were steadily closing around his windpipe.

"If you dare even think that I – "

"Sulien!"

It felt as though all oxygen was being cut out from his brain; but through the haze across his eyes, Sulien could just see his sister, wide-eyed and frightened, appear beside him, her long, unbound hair exposing her for the woman she was. He could have sworn if he'd had the breath. Just another reason for more ridicule and abuse. A woman masquerading as a man in such a place as this could only spell trouble. Making an effort to pry the man's fingers away, Sulien shot a furious look at Sioned, anger churning at the pit of his stomach. How could Sioned be so _stupid_?!

As he glared, the anger quickly subsided, and not for the first time that evening, to be replaced by a strange feeling of guilt. If he hadn't taken the goblets, if he hadn't suggested she come, if he hadn't started that, in hindsight, rather foolish game of dice, if he hadn't, if he hadn't, if he hadn't… A groan escaping from his lips, Sulien made one furious effort to shove the giant away, and this time succeeded; gasping for breath and doubling over, wheezing, as the man's grip loosened. Spluttering and choking, he slumped down next to Sioned, and was gratified to feel an arm slip around his waist and pull himself upwards. Unfortunately, this only gave him the opportunity to see the angry faces as the crowd closed in on them both.

Still massaging his throat, Sulien heard Sioned's uncertain explanations, "Sirs…I'm sure that my brother didn't mean any harm…he was only joking….he'll give the money back, won't you Sulien? I promise, he will…"

There were still several angry mutters rustling through the crowd. Sulien was sure he heard the word 'hoyden' from one man, and bristled, making another effort to get to his feet. When it came to arguments, no-one was sharper than his sister, but years of making excuses for both of them to his father had made Sulien a natural at bluffing his way out of trouble.

"My sister is no hoyden, and I'll thank you to leave her out of this dispute," He snapped, his voice only faltering slightly, "As for the money, I'll let you have that back with no questions asked. I only felt it was a fun game….No need for anyone to get upset about it…"

The crowd grew silent, and Sulien felt the beginnings of a smug grin appear on his face. In the corner, the outlaws listened with the half-interest of a band of drunks, but Djaq, who had been watching the scene carefully, froze, her face suddenly immobile.

"There you are, see? No need for any one to get hurt here," Sulien was so relieved, he didn't notice any of the crowd at his back begin to move away from him, "I'm sure if we all just _talk_ about this, then we can – "

"Well, well, well. A quiet nightcap with some old friends, Sulien?"

The young man felt the blood in his veins begin to freeze with terror. Sioned made a small, panicked sound at the back of her throat, and pressed closer to her brother, as Sulien turned slowly around to see the cold, smirking features of Guy of Gisborne.

-0-0-0-

Robin grimaced as he watched Sulien attempt to lie his way out of the situation, "Not a v-very good liar, issee, Allan?" He slurred, "You could've gotten out of…out of that in ten seconds straight. Or curved. Whichever."

Allan chuckled, "'E's not experienced enough, issee? Not by a mile…" Chuckling again, he craned his neck up, looking at the dark haired, tall man with a sinister smile on his face, "'Ello, who's that?"

Much looked up once, decided that it was too much of an effort to focus his attention on the newcomer, and let his head fall back down on the table, "Something dark," he intoned tiredly, having done enough work for the evening.

"Shapes," The Southerner muttered distractedly, "I need shapes."

"It is shaped," Djaq said slowly, without moving a single muscle, "like Gisborne."

"Gisborne's not here," Will said cheerfully, "Wouldn't wanta see him. He wouldn't be alone in a place like this. He'd be with a patrol. A patrol of heavily-manned, not-drunk soldiers. Catch us bumping into Gisborne on a night like tonight - "

There was a brief moment in which realization did the icy work of a good night's sleep and one of Djaq's hangover remedies. The outlaws looked at each other and, to a man, clustered up towards Little John.

"I'm not being funny," Allan quavered from behind John, "but this…does _not_ look good."

Much, who was nestled even further behind Little John than Allan was, and who was currently squabbling with him for extra shelter, looked petrified, "We should have left someone as sentry."

"Well, that's one mistake we won't be making again in a hurry," Robin said confidently. Then he wished he hadn't. There were several more guards than outlaws, and none of _them_ were recovering from being drunk.

From her vantage point at Little John's shoulder, Djaq could see Gisborne bearing down like a hungry wolf upon the two Thornton siblings, who were looking even more worried than her fellow outlaws. Sioned was fairly trembling as their master smirked down upon them, but at least Sulien was making a fierce effort to remain calm.

"What?" He was insisting, "Nothing wrong with having a drink, is there?"

"Not as such," Gisborne replied coldly, "but so late in the evening…Oh, and Sioned's joined you too. How very thoughtful of you, Sioned, to join your brother in his social occasions."

"Yes, my lord," Sioned mumbled to the ground, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

The man's eyes were unfeeling, but there was a definite tremor of anger in his voice. It was the first time she'd ever heard Gisborne reveal any kind of emotion, Djaq thought blandly as she watched, "I put my trust in you, Sulien," He snarled, "I've let your behavior slide, because of your father's good work in my service, if for nothing else…"

"I told you, I've done nothing wrong!" Sulien protested, but even he sounded unconvinced. Sioned looked ashamed of herself, "Neither me or Sioned have done anything illegal, we've done nothing w-wrong..."

"Don't lie!" Gisborne shouted back, now looking furious, "Your behavior betrays your guilt just as much as any proof…And what are these?"

As Sulien shot a mutinous look at the giant who had been strangling him not ten minutes ago, the man displayed two of the goblets that had been sold to him by Sulien, "He was selling them, my lord. Said they were his by right, but we guessed that he'd taken them. Far too rich for his blood. We paid a hefty sum for them too."

"Is that so?" Gisborne demanded. Sulien didn't answer, too busy shooting a withering look at the man. Sioned, however, nodded, looking close to tears, "So…you betray by trust, steal from my coffers, and then sell them to line your own pockets? Is that it?"

He really _is_ betrayed, Djaq though, almost in disbelief, and shook her head. She knew that Gisborne had few friends, but that he would be so hurt because one of his servants turned against him was too bewildering to think of. Beside her, Much grabbed her arm tensely, almost cutting off her blood circulation as he did so. Trying not to gasp in pain, and remembering that he and Sulien had once worked alongside each other, Djaq shot her friend a quick smile, while taking his hand and gently removing it from her upper arm, squeezing it as she did so. Much attempted an apologetic grin.

Next to him, Allan was grimacing, craning his neck to see over Little John's shoulder, "They're done for."

"Well, so are we if Gisborne turns around and notices us," Friar Tuck muttered blackly, to the accompaniment of several nods from Allan, Little John and Much. Frozen solid next to the friar, Will watched the proceedings with an unreadable expression on his face, not taking his eyes off a trembling Sioned.

"Doesn't look too happy, does he?" Much hissed to Djaq, who was gently massaging her bruised arm, "All it needs is one final push and he – _Robin_!"

Djaq spun around. Their gallant leader, his eyes back to looking sharp and focused, broke away from the group, creeping up towards Gisborne, who had his back to the outlaw gang. The Saracen woman closed her eyes in disbelief as Robin winked back at them, his typical, smug, I-have-a-chance-to-embarrass-Gisborne-so-I'm-damn-well-going-to-take-it grin dancing all over his face.

Djaq was really starting to get sick of that grin.

"He's mad," Much was muttering quietly, looking exasperated, "He's lost his mind…"

As Robin crept around to where Gisborne was towering over Sulien and Sioned; the night patrol at his side, he could just about see Sioned staring dismally at the floor, a look of total guilt painted completely across her face. Sulien glowered defiantly up at Gisborne, his mouth twisted into a scowl to prevent the man from seeing his teeth chattering. Guy, glaring down coldly at them, didn't notice his presence as the outlaw crept up behind him, but Sulien, looking up for the first time, did. His expression suddenly went into carefully neutral.

"_Right_," Gisborne said steadily, his hand tightening around his sword hilt, "We'll see what the Sheriff has to say about this…" As Robin opened his mouth to call out, shout, anything to distract the man, Sioned looked up, and her eyes widened. The look in the girl's eyes was enough to give Gisborne a split-second warning, and he spun around, instinctively unsheathing his sword, "What the – "

With no sword in his hands, Robin improvised, kicking Gisborne straight in the stomach. Grunting, the man was knocked backwards, straight into the path of a vengeful looking Sulien, who sprang at him, fists flying. As the two men struggled, Sulien's defiance and sheer terror giving him adrenaline enough to hold his own against the much stronger Gisborne, Robin laughed, withdrawing his own sword almost lazily. His cockiness blinded him enough to hide the guards, who had been frozen in place by the sudden and unexpected appearance of the outlaw, turn as one man to stare at him. One of them was clutching a very heavy, and very raised, morning star.

All traces of exasperation vanished from Much's face, "MASTER!" He yelled out deafeningly, fumbling with his sword and sheath and hauling his shield onto his left arm, "Master, look out!" One more moment, and he too had plunged into the fray.

Allan cursed fluently, watching for a split-second as Robin and Much battled, back to back, their movements not betraying the fact that they'd both been extremely drunk not half an hour ago. Below them, and getting under their feet, Sulien smashed his fist down against Gisborne's cheekbone, and Sioned, weaponless and much smaller than the guard that was bearing down upon her, struggled ineffectively against the sergeant-at-arms, kicking at his kneecaps furiously, "D'you think they really need us? The door's just over there…"

"_Allan_."

"Alright, alright," Still grumbling, Allan unsheathed his own sword, giving it an experimental flick and smacking it against the helm of an unfortunate guard who had strayed too close, "Yep, still works. And I thought this was going to be a quiet night's drink," He sighed mournfully, wincing as Gisborne gained the upper hand and sank his fist into Sulien's stomach, "Still…"

Little John had lost his patience, and grabbed the back of Allan's collar with the hand not holding his giant quarter staff, "Enough talk – move it!" Flinging the young man into the fight, he leapt in after him, followed by Djaq, Will and Tuck.

There were not only guards involved, Will noticed bitterly as his axe sunk into the backs of the knees of a guard busy attacking Friar Tuck, but the townspeople too; fired up by drink and already spoiling for a fight from Sulien's confrontation. And it was hard to tell who was fighting who; some of them, led by the giant who had caught out Sulien, were fighting against the outlaws, while others were against the guards. And, all of the sudden, the room seemed ten times as small as it used to – ducking from a well-aimed punch, and kicking upwards into the stomach of the man who had served it Will found his back against the wall already. It was full of screaming women, brawling men, and always there were the tables and chairs which were serving as traps to trip you up… It was always so much easier in the forest or the castle – it wasn't half as enclosed as it was now. Cursing under his breath, Will dodged as a flung tankard sailed close to his head, and began fighting with two of the guards in earnest.

Meanwhile, maneuvering himself into the middle of the melee, Allan managed to leap over the still-brawling shapes that were Gisborne and Sulien, allowing himself one moment of pity for the young man. Sure, he was a rat, but he was becoming an extremely battered rat. Gisborne's blows were becoming more and more vicious. Wincing as he saw that the lad's face was now more blue-and-black than flesh coloured, Allan's thoughts turned quickly to Sulien's sister, who was still struggling against the large sergeant-at-arms. He flung an arm around her waist, and jerked her straight out of the man's grip, only to bite back a yelp as the sergeant brought his shield straight down against his head. Stumbling backwards, and ignoring Sioned's abrupt scream, Allan groaned, clutching at his head. Stars danced before his eyes. His neck ached from the full weight of the shield pressing down on it.

"Are you alright?" Sioned demanded shrilly as Robin danced forward to take Allan's place, his curved Saracen blade moving so fast that it could barely be seen. Behind them, Much let out a howl as the guard with the morning star struck, and the spiked ball smashed into his lower arm, causing him to almost drop the shield. The angle of the strike was such that it could not cause any large amount of damage, but his arm still hung limply at his side, shield useless.

"Yeah, fine," The young man mumbled, before grimacing as Sioned flung her arms around his sore neck. The girl seemed utterly petrified. Feeling sorry for the girl, but also vulnerable and loath to leave her weaponless, Allan dragged her to the edge of the fight, his sword weaving in and out, "You?"

As Sioned's only answer was to withdraw from his arms and nod shakily, Allan couldn't help thinking that this wasn't enough. Wrenching the sword from a guard, he pressed it into her hands, causing her eyes to widen, "I've never fought with a sword before!"

"It's easy," Allan retorted, a comforting arm around her shoulders and pulling her down slightly as Little John drove three of the guards backwards, his staff flying about everywhere, "You hold the blunt end, and the pointy end goes in someone else."

"There must be more to it than that!"

"Yes! Remember which end is which!"

Her face twisting, and fairly shaking, Sioned plunged back in, her face whiter than milk. Allan shot in straight after her. After five more minutes of brawling, and stumbling back to stand alongside his best friend, he was relieved to notice that Sioned was, if not _mastering_ the weapon, then at least coping with it enough to keep herself from being skewered. Both of the young men winced as she fell backwards onto the ground, before wincing even more in sympathy as, looking indignant, she swung her leg forward in a semi-circle, catching the guard who had felled her on the backs of the legs and knocking him down to the ground.

_Blimey, at least she's getting better_, Allan thought gratefully, at the same time as Will looked gleeful, "I taught her that!"

Robin, meanwhile, was gasping for breath. Gisborne had successfully driven Sulien back into a corner, and had now whirled around to face him. Although the fight was still going on, it had subsided, and the fighters; outlaws, guards and townsfolk had backed away from the pair, forming a large circle around them. Each of the outlaws were exhausted, and in the case of Djaq, who had stood too close to Little John and had gotten in the way of his whirling staff, blooded. Seeing a huddle of guards turn their attention to them, Much made a terrific effort and raised his shield unsteadily with his injured arm, and pulled her back behind the shield with his good arm. Senses hazy and head throbbing, Djaq complied without a murmur of complaint, almost fainting against him as she did so.

Brandishing his sword, Robin glowered blackly at Gisborne, his usual good humour vaporised by the heat of battle. As long as the man stayed at sword's length, that was fine by him, "Brawling in taverns – that's not like you Gisborne."

"You're interfering with the course of justice, Hood," Gisborne spat. Although having emerged the victor from his tussle with Sulien, the young man had put up a strong fight, and the evidence was plain to see on his body. Bent slightly, bruised and bloody, the man cut an injured figure, "Even a bleeding heart like you knows that they are guilty of theft with no excuse. And they have no need of the coin," He made a vague motion at the outlaws, "Call your men off; this doesn't concern you."

"I don't think so," The outlaw retorted, holding Gisborne at bay with his sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sulien, battered and bruised, rejoin his sister, "Sulien; get Sioned out of the inn and go."

"But Robin – "

"_Now_!" He didn't have enough patience to deal with Sulien right now; it was his fault that they were in this mess in the first place. Sioned tugged at Sulien's sleeve, and the pair of them disappeared, swiftly, out of the door.

Clutching the sword that Allan had given her, Sioned was hot on Sulien's heels as he pelted out of the door, heading straight for the stables. Watching as her brother hauled himself onto the horse that they'd both ridden on, before collapsing against the mare's neck, the young woman looked around wildly for any more guards that would hinder their escape, before starting slightly. She frowned, approaching the horse she'd noticed carefully.

"Is that Cylu?" Sulien demanded from his perch on their own horse.

"I think so," Sioned murmured, patting down the horse's black hide soothingly. Another quick glance around them, and she ran around to the stallion's side, setting her foot in the stirrup and swinging herself up without a pause. Cylu, used to Sioned by now, didn't complain.

Sulien's eyes fairly popped out of their sockets, "You're stealing Lord Gisborne's horse?" He hissed, his voice several octaves too high, "And you say _I'm_ rash?"

The young woman made a face, unfettering the horse as she did so, "He's a good horse," She mumbled defensively, gripping the reigns tightly, "Come on, let's get out of here before Gisborne comes out."

"And decides he wants his horse back."

-0-0-0-

Robin was not feeling so light-hearted. Swinging his sword again, only to have it smash against Gisborne's own, he was feeling very downhearted. Neither men were loosing, but by the same analysis, neither were winning.

_If he feels half as bad as I do, then I'd admit, he's a fair fighter_; Robin thought sullenly. Then Gisborne's foot came up and caught him in the kneecap, and all charitable thoughts vanished from his mind as Gisborne drove him backwards relentlessly, his sword heavy and merciless. Robin felt like cursing, if he had enough breath in his body to do so.

Almost about to collapse, his only support being the wall that Gisborne had shoved him up against, Robin glowered defiantly back at the Sheriff's lieutenant, who smirked back, "What's the matter Hood?" He asked mockingly, pressing his sword up to rest against Robin's throat, "Not enough breath in your body for a smart comment?"

Before he could answer, Gisborne let out a yell, clutching at his throat. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone had stopped fighting to watch the pair, Allan had sprung forward, locking his arm around Gisborne's neck. As soon as Gisborne was knocked off balance enough to let Robin dodge out of the sword's way, Allan's dagger came up against Gisborne's own throat.

"Alright gents," The young man announced to the guards, in his jovial, carrying tone, while Robin gasped for breath, and Friar Tuck sprung forward to support the young man, "if you would all like to take a few steps backwards, please, and refrain from killing anyone else, then I won't have to slit your lieutenant's throat now, will I?"

"Do as he says," Gisborne muttered sourly.

"Wise decision, Gisborne," Robin replied, massaging his throat, "Much….Djaq, John, to me. You will call your men off and let us go free, is that clear?"

The furious look at Gisborne shot Robin indicated that it was.

As soon as they were out of the door, Allan gave a whoop, punching the air, "Did you see that?! Did you _see_ that? The smarmy git's face, _just_ when he thought he had us…"

"Yeah, Allan, we saw," Will muttered indulgently as he mounted his horse, but grinning all the same.

Robin chuckled, his hand still at his throat, "Good work, everyone. I know that wasn't entirely expected, but all the same, well done. And we managed to find out something," He exchanged glum looks with Little John, who he knew felt them same about their lack of information, "No matter how small. All in all, I say it's about time we called it a night – Much, what's wrong?"

Stumbling under the weight of Djaq's limp body, Much attempted a grin, "She's just fainted. It's alright, I can look after her!" He added hastily, as Friar Tuck came forward, "I just….give me a few moments, that's all," The outlaw bit his lip as Djaq's body came into contact with his injured arm, biting back a yelp.

Allan chuckled, settling into his own saddle. Not a bad night, as it turned out. _And_ he'd gotten one over on that Gisborne…He beamed widely looking thoroughly self-satisfied, and, if truth be known, a little smug. Everything was going brilliantly.

He turned in his saddle, only to see Will glowering at him, "Allan," He demanded sharply, "Why were you hugging Sioned in the middle of all the fighting?"

Allan gulped. Oops.

* * *

Good grief...writing action scenes really takes it out of you. I never know where to put everyone...

Gah, have to go out, so have no time to thank all me lovely reviewers. Suffice it to say that you all make my day, and I love you all! Which means that, to make me even more chipper, you have to leave more reviews. Hint hint.

Until next time, my friends...


	12. Chapter 12: Anger and Advantage Taking

**A/N:** My updates are getting quite uneven, no? Having a lot of fun though...wrote about two chapters! Am very proud of myself...

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Anger and Advantage Taking**

Whatever little colour there had been in Sulien's face drained swiftly out of it as his fight-addled brain realised where his sister had led him. At the start of their journey, he had been far too exhausted and weak to pay much attention to their journey; clinging to the horse beneath him with his knees and eventually slumping against its neck, semi-conscious. Now he had regained some of his strength and wits, he found it easier to sit up in the saddle and take in their surroundings; and quickly blanched.

"_Their_ camp?" He demanded furiously, chest heaving with the effort as he peered around the camp, "An outlaw's camp? Why would you bring us _here_, of all places? You think that Gisborne will treat us kindly if he finds us here?"

Already dismounting from her purloined horse and tethering him to a tree, Sioned grimaced slightly, moving to help Sulien down from the mare, "Don't be stupid," She retorted sharply, gasping slightly as the full weight of her brother's body slammed against her, and she clutched her arms tighter around Sulien, "If you think Gisborne's going to forgive us after our – _your_, I might add – theft from his own personal coffers, then you're dafter than you look. Did you really think he'd welcome us back into Loxley?"

No, was the honest answer, Sulien thought sourly as he dismounted, before staggering with the loss of his support as Sioned moved to tether the mare. But it wasn't in his nature to admit that he'd been wrong, and Sioned was obviously waiting for a come-back of some kind. The relationship between the brother and sister had always lasted like that, for as long as he could recall. But he had barely enough energy to stand, let alone fight, and so, with severely bad grace, he let Sioned lead him to the remains of the fire that still burnt, hobbling like an old man.

"Eat something," She ordered tiredly, rummaging around the discarded trenchers and bowls that had been left, and eventually finding some cold meat stew still in the bottom of Much's saucepan, "You need to recover from your injuries. Gisborne didn't exactly go lightly on you."

"I didn't go lightly on him, either," Sulien replied smugly, accepting the food graciously, "Did you see him when I'd finished with him, Sioned? Did you?" 

Sioned rolled her eyes as her brother continued to prattle, occasionally answering him with meaningless answers and thanking God fervently that Sulien had not asked how she knew where the outlaw's camp was.

-0-0-0-

Physicians make lousy patients, Much thought with barely concealed amusement as Djaq swayed, gripping her horse with her knees determinedly. Having come round from her faint halfway to Sherwood, the Saracen had insisted in no uncertain terms that she be put down from where she'd been sat, side-saddle, in front of Little John, and that she be allowed to ride her own horse. It was obvious that she was unfit for riding, but the furious demands had threatened to rise so loudly that even the Sheriff would have been able to hear it; and so Djaq was now riding beside Much, looking as though she'd topple off at any moment.

As her horse sidled, and Djaq swayed again, Much made a grab for the reins to take control of the animal. Djaq turned to glower furiously at him, "Don't you dare," She snarled.

By now unable to conceal his growing amusement, Much stifled his laughter against his sleeve, "I'm only trying to help," He forced out, when he was sure he was able to speak without laughing.

Turning in the saddle, Djaq's liquid brown eyes narrowed, fixing Much with her most furious glare, "My father fought the English in Acre with a spear wound in his leg, and then set about helping his own men. He treated the wounded, and defended them against your bloody English countrymen with his sword and his bare hands from dawn until nightfall. He stood packed shoulder to shoulder with dead men who could not be moved, so great was the press. And when the English pressed further, he retreated in forced march still with that piece of spear in him."

Much's lips twitched, "So…you are not thinking of dying just yet?"

The look that Djaq shot him could have killed.

Ahead of them, their fellow outlaws were grumbling to themselves. Whatever high spirits they had had at the end of the fight were swiftly plummeting as their various injuries made themselves known. John had caught the haft of a spear to the side of his face, which was now swelling and turning discoloured, and the skin on Will's knuckles were bruised and split, a kink in his jaw where he'd been too slow to duck a punch. Allan's skull was still throbbing madly. All of them were in no doubt as to who to blame for their injuries.

"I'll kill him," Allan, all sympathy for Sulien vanished, growled to Friar Tuck, out of Robin's earshot, "I'll bloody well kill him."

"Sulien's probably in a worse state than you are," Tuck replied, but uncertainly. Like the rest of his comrades, he had been caught in the crossfire, and although the brawlers had tried to avoid harming a man of the cloth, there was still a deep gash on his forearm, which had been half-heartedly bound with the green necktie that Tuck, like every other man that lived in Robin's gang, had taken to wearing.

"Good. He deserves it, the little rat," The younger man snarled, "And that sister of his. Just as much of a trouble maker as he is. I ought to thrash her to a pulp. I don't care if she is a woman; if she dresses up like a lad, she ought to be punished like one."

Will, riding behind him, was of the same opinion as Allan, but quieter about it. All through the ride back home, his mind had been accompanied by Sioned's parting shot of '_you've done enough_'. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? What had he done now? If it had been about that kiss…He shifted slightly in the saddle from the still-burning memory of it, and scowled. Well, she could hardly go running to her brother and claim that it had all been his doing. The movements she'd been making against him were _definitely_ not ones of a struggle to get away. If he turned his neck sharply he could still feel where her fingers had dug into his flesh; could still taste her on his tongue and lips. Frowning, he rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously, before wincing as his neck protested. Whatever Sioned might say, he thought sullenly, he had not been the only one at fault; and if he hadn't been mistaken, _she_ had kissed _him_ back.

Quite forcefully. Extremely forcefully, and without any sign of that haughty reservation he usually saw in Sioned's expression. He only had to let his mind wander slightly to end up going down that particular road. Far too dangerous to think about, especially in public, Will decided after a few moments contemplation, when Little John remarked sharply that he'd let the horse's reigns slacken. What he needed was some peace, quiet, a good night's sleep, a plateful of food to sate his hunger…

…and a dunking in a cold river, he added sourly to himself as his stomach gave another lurch. This wasn't fair! Women didn't seem to be slaves to their feelings as men did, Sioned probably wasn't in such a state as he was. What was even worse for him was, no matter how infuriated he was, there was still a part of him that wanted her, and very desperately at that. Far too desperately. Shaking his head as if to rid himself of a bee buzzing around his head, Will swore very fluently under his breath. He needed to think of something else, and fast; or Allan would soon notice that something was definitely wrong.

Too late. As he rubbed his neck again, and then mentally cursed as the bruises started aching again, Allan turned in his saddle to look at him, "You alright there kid?"

_Hardly a kid_, Will thought, and had difficulty hiding a smirk, nodding instead. Not one of the men – or women, he thought quickly, looking back to where Djaq and Much were quietly bickering – would believe that he'd kissed Sioned Thornton tonight; and even if they did believe him, not one of them would let him forget it. The thought of the story getting back to Sulien at some point made him inwardly wince.

"You're very quiet, Will," Robin chimed in from where he'd been leading the party back to the hideout.

Allan snorted, "He's always quiet," Despite his quick dismissal of Robin's idea, he frowned, checking his horse in order to ride alongside his best friend, "You sure you're alright? Your face isn't half red."

"It isn't."

Not to be dissuaded, the outlaw frowned, peering obviously into his face, "It is an' all. Did the drink get to you tonight? You haven't even started grumbling about Sulien and Sioned almost getting us killed. _And_ there's something up with your neck."

Will batted Allan's raised hand away, feeling defensive. At the moment he didn't want Allan anywhere _near_ his neck, "Get off!"

Allan's eyes narrowed, "Something's wrong; I can tell. Despite your usual, cheery demeanor, of course," Ignoring Will's rolled eyes, and instead playing up for Robin's indulgent chuckle, Allan pointed an accusing finger at Will, "And you were smiling! The most damning piece of evidence yet: Will Scarlett was _smiling_! Now I _know_ there's something wrong with you!"

Whatever hint of a smile remaining on Will's face vanished as a black scowl took over his expression, coupled with a slightly anxious look. Allan wasn't _that_ serious, was he? Surely he didn't look as sullen as all that _all_ the time – did he? Feeling slightly uneasy and less confident, he nudged at his horse with his knee, causing the stallion to shy away from his best friend.

The older man, not noticing the look of uncertainty on the other's face, was not to be dissuaded, "Is that a: yes, Allan, I'll tell you everything that's going on in my poor, troubled mind?"

His patience spun gossamer-thin, Will wheeled his horse around to face Allan, who was forced to sharply reign in the chestnut gelding he rode in order to stop a head-on collision, "No, it's a 'shut up Allan and leave me alone'!" He snapped, vaguely aware that his knuckles had turned white from where his hands were gripping the reigns tightly. Behind a bewildered Tuck, he could see Much and Djaq look up from where they'd been quietly bickering, frowning with bemusement. Allan himself hadn't even gotten to the stage of being confused – so taken aback was he that his best friend had snapped at him so forcefully that his face was blank and devoid of expression.

_Serves him right_, Will thought sourly as Allan's face began to crease up with anger, _all that teasing, it's enough to make anyone sick…he probably thinks I've put up with his rubbish for so long that it doesn't matter what he says…_Then he had to stop and frown, surprised despite himself at the unusual show of temper – or rather, the show of temper directed unusually at his best friend. For a moment the two young men glowered furiously at each other, Will's chest heaving with the effort it had taken him to stop himself from simply striking Allan; Allan's expression beginning to show the faintest hints of betrayal.

Thankfully, a guardian angel arrived, in the rather formidable shape of Little John, "Leave him alone," The older man ordered, nudging his horse forward so Allan had no choice but to ride ahead to avoid being trampled. When Will grinned gratefully at him, albeit slightly forcedly, John waved a hand, "Allan's incessant prattling I do not like."

Will couldn't help breathing a slight sigh of relief; still shocked at his reaction to Allan's annoying, but good natured teasing. It was true, as much as he liked his best friend, there were times when his chattering could get a bit much, especially when his emotions were in such a stir as they were now. When that happened, it was a relief to stay with Little John, who was a man of as few words as he was; and very bluntly spoken words at that. The two managed to cope in companiable silence, for the most part; able at times to slip away from the mad-cap, hurly-burly atmosphere that Robin and Allan created. As well as that, Little John seemed to be the only other member of the group who would reign in Allan when not even Robin could. Patting his destrier with the flat of one hand, Little John beamed at him, the exuberance of his smile not hidden by his giant beard. Now Will could not help feeling unsettled as to why Little John was looking so cheerful.

"…I'm not always that surly looking, am I?" He finally managed, looking thoroughly despondent, all the previous feelings of insecurity, loneliness and misery starting to stir in him again. No wonder everyone preferred Allan to him, when the Southerner was always so loud and cheerful. No wonder Sioned was always so much more talkative when Allan was around, no wonder she'd only turned to him when she was incredibly drunk and in need of comfort – despite his previous resolution to stop thinking about the young woman, horrible feelings of doubt were starting to push their way to the fore…

"No," Little John's deep voice broke its way through his thoughts, "No more than any of us are. Besides," The big grin had resumed its place on John's face, and Will was left feeling unsettled again, "I am told that young women are inclined towards brooding young men."

Will spluttered.

"Your young lady might be one of them," Little John continued, seemingly unaware of the effect his words were having on Will, although his brown eyes were twinkling mischievously, "That was my impression from what I saw tonight. Happy young couples I _do_ like."

The big man urged his horse forward, leaving Will so utterly lost for words that he could barely remember to breathe. Had John _really_ just said what he thought he'd said?

-0-0-0-

"A tavern brawl, you say?" Vasey asked dryly, casting a disdainful eye over the prisoners that stood shackled and bound before him. One giant brute had the impudence to glare back.

"Yes, my lord," The unfortunate soldier, whose bad luck it had been to wake up the Sheriff and inform him of the incident, avoided Vasey's eye in the sacred tradition of all unfortunate guards who are ordered to report bad news to a higher authority (or to wake up the higher authority when the higher authority is always grumpy when he's woken up), staring fiercely at a point six inches above the older man's ear, "Lord Gisborne ordered me to report the incident immediately."

Of course he did. The man was probably still angry for being sent out with a patrol. Grinding his teeth, Vasey began to pace his study like a caged wild cat, "So Gisborne thinks that a mere tavern brawl would be enough reason to wake me up in the middle of the night…A Clue: _NO_!" The last word was a bellow, punctuated by a resonant thud as he brought his hand down forcefully on his desk.

The guard struggled to keep his expression neutral. One of his fellows had been unlucky enough – and foolish enough – to laugh when their lord showed such a display of temper. An hour later, the man's tongue had been sliced out, "My lord, Sir Gisborne sends word that one of these prisoners reported that he saw a man meeting with Hood in the tavern, passing information. Ahm…also that he would have reported the incident himself, had his horse not been stolen."

"Gisborne's horse was stolen? _Good_," Vasey's voice was petulant and sulky. Bad enough having de Remy here, no matter that it was to achieve their own ends, but now Gisborne being…well, Gisborne… "A spy, you say? Does he have a name, this mystery man?"

"No, my lord. Only that he sells cloth to the castle."

Interesting. Very interesting…

"My lord? The prisoners, should we…"

Vasey waved a languid hand, "Hang them. Hang them all," He said lazily, his mind already occupied with several different schemes and plots. Uppermost in his thoughts was Gisborne. The man had become unbearable since the Almost-Wedding with dear Marian. He needed distracting. He needed toughening up again.

….He needed a wife.

Smirking, the Sheriff watched as the prisoners were marched away, before putting quill to parchment.

-0-0-0-

Strangely enough, for once, the same thoughts were in Gisborne's mind as he approached the village of Knighton. He couldn't help but frowning slightly with irritation as the gelding he rode sidled. It was a good horse – he would have no man he commanded ride a nag – but all the same, being forced to borrow a horse from one of his men rankled with Guy. Cylu, the stallion he usually rode, had been a fine beast, bred from Spanish sires – and now the horse had been stolen. He had a shrewd idea as to who had stolen him as well. The light that Sioned had in her eyes when she groomed the horse had not been easy for her to hide.

Despite his fury that his horse had been stolen, and his disgust at the two youths betrayal, Gisborne could not help feeling that Cylu would not find a better owner. Sulien was a bitter young man, and neither he nor Gisborne had made a secret of their loathing for each other – Gisborne winced as he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and accidentally pressed his fingers against a bruise Sulien had inflicted – but Sioned had been a good servant. More than that, she'd been a lively scrap of a child. He was going to miss her.

The thought made Gisborne grimace and chuckle at the same time. Vasey would certainly have a few things to say about that thought – but then again, maybe not. He would be too busy laughing at what he was doing in Knighton in the first place.

Dismounting from the gelding, Gisborne led the horse around to the stables, pulling the package from its place resting on the saddle and letting it rest beside Marian's palfrey. Another grimace passed his face – doubtless he was growing weak, sentimental, to be doing such things as leaving presents for a lady in the dead of night. But the notion had been so compelling….

In the darkness, Guy of Gisborne raised his face just once to the window where he knew Marian to be sleeping behind. There was no magical beam of moonlight to illuminate her window – perhaps that was all to the best. Their relationship had never been filled with magic, anyway.

Sighing, he nodded silently, before mounting the horse and riding away.

-0-0-0-

Whatever bad temper Allan might have been in immediately doubled as he saw who was sitting by the fire at the camp.

"No," He snapped furiously, before anyone had a chance to speak, "No, no, no, a thousand times, _no_," Dismounting from his horse, he marched over to the fire and bodily grabbed Sulien, who had fallen asleep, "Get up, _get up_, there is no way in hell you're staying here. _Either_ of you."

Sioned leapt to her feet, eyes flashing, "He's injured! Leave my brother alone, or I'll skewer you with one of your own arrows, Allan A Dale," She shot a contemptuous look at Will, who had started to approach, "And that goes for your little tag-a-long too."

Will had been thinking over Little John's words ever since they'd left his mouth, first coming to one conclusion and then to another, until his head was so muddled up that he didn't know what to think. The only thing he _was_ sure of at the moment was that he had kissed Sioned and Sioned had kissed him back. The harsh treatment of him made him bristle, and, forgetting the fact that he had just snapped at Allan, rushed to his friend's aide.

"Allan's right," He retorted furiously, shooting a burning glower at Sioned, "Neither you or Sulien are spending a single night here."

Allan nodded, all resentment forgotten, "Yeah, get up, you can get yourselves home."

"Sulien's _injured_!" Sioned protested. Amid their argument, Friar Tuck placidly started to tether the horses, while Much put his arms around a protesting Djaq and lifted her bodily down in a cradle-carry. Only Little John stopped to watch, "He can't travel!"

"Then get home by yourself! You've caused enough trouble for one night."

"I've caused enough trouble? _I've_ caused enough trouble?!"

The second pointed glance Sioned sent his way was too much for body and soul to bear. Tired, confused, patience worn to a frazzle, Will grabbed Sioned by the wrist, twisting it around until he heard her gasp, "Sioned, either get home with your brother, or by yourself; either way, you're going home."

Sioned slapped him straight around the face.

Yelling as her hand collided straight with a prominent bruise, the pain enhanced by the shock of the strike, Will recoiled and let go of her wrist, which was enough for Sioned to scramble away from him and back to the safety of her brother's protective shadow. Will swore loudly, earning him an amused look from Robin, who seemed to be enjoying the whole thing far too much, and rubbed his cheek furiously. It already felt warm with the force of the blow.

Finally, Robin decided to put a stop to the ensuing fight. Putting a hand out to each offended party, he stifled a grin, "Enough! As amusing as this is, we've already been through one brawl, I don't want to see another one, is that clear? All four of you, stop it, _now_."

"I didn't say anything," Sulien muttered sourly.

Robin ignored him, "Allan, Will, Sulien and Sioned are going to be outlawed after this. Show them a bit of compassion, will you?" Both Will and Allan looked sulkily resentful, "Sioned, _calm down_," Before either party had a chance to object, Robin got straight to the crux of the matter, "And I'm keeping you both for your own safety."

"_What_?!"

"No way!"

"Robin, we can look after oursel – "

"No buts," The outlaw said firmly, "Your father means a lot to me, and I owe him. A lot. The least I can do is protect you," He looked around, "Does anyone else have a problem with Sioned and Sulien joining the gang?"

Friar Tuck, Djaq and Little John shook their heads. Much, Robin was interested to see, had been sitting Djaq down on her bedding so carefully and tenderly that he hadn't even heard the question.

"Then that's settled," Robin grinned, sitting down beside Sulien and starting to look at his injuries. As he did so, Will paused for a few seconds, before striding over to Sioned, his heart hammering, and grabbed her by the wrist again, dragging her to her feet. This had to be sorted out, and it had to be sorted now. No matter what had passed between them, it wasn't likely to get better if Sioned kept snapping at him without even waiting for a reason.

"I'd like a word," He muttered curtly. Strangely, Sioned kept quiet, only staring at the floor, and so he pulled her over to the side of the camp, "What's the matter with you?"

"The matter with me?" Sioned's burning resentment was obvious through her tone, "What's the matter with you? You _kissed_ me!"

Will's jaw dropped open, "You kissed me back!"

"I was _drunk and upset_! You practically took advantage of me!"

By then, Will was so furious he could hardly see straight, "I wouldn't want to take advantage of you no matter how drunk you got," He said scathingly, lying through clenched teeth. Turning on his heel, he left her looking mutinous, and sat heavily down beside Sulien, clenching his fists. He hadn't been sure whether to strike her or kiss her. Both seemed equally appealing.

Sulien turned to glare warningly at him, "Whatever arrangement Robin may have with us," He snarled, "There is one thing to be made clear. You keep your hands off my sister, or I'll remove whatever apendage I think of. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Will retorted, his own voice icy cold, "I wouldn't even want your sister anyway."

It was amazing how much he was lying at the moment. He did want Sioned. Very much.

* * *

Too much shippiness and bickering...can't be good for self...

Heee! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Have another chappy written already, so I can't put in the Robin/Marian-ness or Friar-Tuck-y-ness (which I doubt is a word...) yet, but we shall see what happens after that...

Good bye, all!! Until next time, at least...


	13. Chapter 13: Distress Discussion and Djaq

**A/N:** Teehee - thanks everyone! Really loving all the brilliant reviews!

Allan really shouldn't have this much innuendo in this chapter...I really should give him a talking to...

**Chapter Thirteen: Distress, Discussion and Djaq**

The atmosphere between the two parties could not have been more strained, Robin thought grimly as Allan and Will glowered sullenly across the glowing flames of the fire at Sulien and Sioned, who returned the glare with just as much force as they could muster. It was impressive, really – Gisborne had dealt Sulien a fantastic punch in the eye, such a strike that even Robin admired it, leaving the eye disturbingly bruised. His entire eyelid was dark red, almost brown, and the surrounding skin was a blend of greys and blues. It was a grotesque sight, and even Robin couldn't help but suppress a shudder when he looked at Sulien. The young man was lucky his eye socket hadn't been shattered.

And yet, the man still managed to use that eye to glower furiously over at his now-fellow outlaws.

Robin idly mused how long it would be before there was bloodshed.

"And we need to make contact with Marcus again. See if he's heard anything else," Robin toyed with the idea of asking Allan, before dismissing it briskly, "Sioned, can you go?"

For a moment the hostile look on Sioned's face was replaced with one of surprised horror, "Me? Go into the town on my own? I can't do that!"

Will's face was passively neutral, his gaze turned to the flickering campfire, "No, she's right, Robin, she can't go alone," He said, his voice completely deadpan, without a flicker of emotion, "She needs two people to balance out her besom properly."

Allan spluttered into his mead, evidently amused by the idea of Sioned flying around the English countryside perched on a broomstick. Sioned bristled, but said nothing, her arms shaking with the effort of not reaching over and slapping Will straight across the face again. Robin winced theatrically.

Evidently, the bloodshed would come sooner than he anticipated.

Sighing, he looked across from one group to another, focussing particularly on Will. Will, whose fire within him had subsided and melted to a dull burn, showed little of the bitter fury he had displayed towards Sioned in his expression, but it was clear from the rigidity with which he held himself that Sioned had not been forgiven. The fact that she was now outlawed and separated from her family seemed to mean nothing. Robin had no idea what had passed between the pair, but now felt himself intrigued. Both of them were now under his care, and he needed to make sure there were no rifts within the gang. He would have to talk to John. He seemed to know everything that happened in this camp.

As he rolled onto his stomach and started poking at the fire with a twig, Robin wondered, not for the first time, where he'd managed to find these people.

-0-0-0-

The forest floor felt cold beneath her cheek as she rolled, slipping from the nest of bedding that had been constructed on top of her pallet. Wincing as her head connected with the earth, for even the smallest of movements was enough to send tremors resonating around her skull; Djaq let her cheek rest against the cool earth. Cool, and surprisingly damp. The blades of grass were beginning to tickle against her closed eyelids.

Surprisingly, even though she had a head wound that, if it had been anyone else, she would have deemed serious enough to merit serious bed rest, Djaq had been feeling oddly contented to stay nestled in the mound of blankets. She was still half asleep, her mind feeling hazy and satisfied. So satisfied, in fact, that she could not even be bothered to reach over and bat away the offending grass.

She opened her mouth and attempted to puff them away with her breath instead.

"Djaq!" So used to her fellow outlaws' tones of voices and moods was she, that she could almost see Much's mouth in an indignant 'O', eyes filling with concern, "You shouldn't be lying there on the grass! Did you fall? Is your head alright?"

Letting her eyes slide slowly open, Djaq attempted to recollect her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was Sioned insulting Will in one way or another – she couldn't remember how, there were far too many insults being bandied back and forth at the moment – and Sulien had been laughing loudly and forcefully – forcefully enough to cry out when one of his many wounds gave a more serious twinge. And she'd been so insistent to check on him, even though Tuck had been sure he could handle everything…

_"Djaq, he's fine! Tuck can handle him, he does have some medical expertise…careful!" _

_"I can cope with rising from my bed and treating a wound, Much!" Batting away Much's hands, Djaq struggled to her feet, ignoring the world swimming before her very eyes. Her legs felt weak, as if her bone marrow had all but turned to liquid, and in contrast her head felt heavy as a shield. Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and managed to regain her balance. She was always steady and capable, as steady as a rock, that was what the gang knew her for, and dratted if she was going to let Much see her give in to a simple head wound, "You're like a fussy old woman at times!" _

_Much's face had crumpled slightly, but he refused to budge, just as stubborn as she was, "You need to rest!" _

_"I tell you, I am alright!" Djaq cried, and on the last word, her world went black, and she dropped like a stone._

Perhaps she _should_ have been more cautious. More willing to practise what she preached. If one of the men had behaved as foolishly as she had done, she would have sent John to sit on their chest until they behaved. But she was as stubborn as a mule, and so the look she shot Much was one of defiant warning as she propped herself up on her arms and started to push herself back to her bedding.

Much was not to be cowed. Folding his arms sulkily in the same mannerism that she'd seen him do a hundred times before, usually when Robin was trying to make him do something he didn't want to, he stomped over to the pallet and sat down heavily next to her with a thud, "It won't work, you know."

"What won't?" Her voice was too innocent, even to her own ears. Much raised an eyebrow.

"The 'I'm-alright-really-I'm-perfectly-well-enough-to-go-swanning-around-the-countryside-getting-injured-and-to-hell-with-the-consequences look."

"I _am_ alright!" Djaq insisted furiously, before falling back onto her pallet. She exhaled sharply, and fought the urge to cradle her head protectively – after all, Much was still watching her, almost as determined as she was to be proved right, "I am!"

"Oh, of course," Rolling his eyes, Much began to ape her voice, "All will be fine, Much! This wound is just a scratch, I can still run around attacking the Sheriff's guards! All the blood? That's completely natural! _Bed rest_? What a thing to suggest!"

The mimicry was so perfect, she spluttered despite herself, clasping a hand to her mouth in order to stifle her giggles. The others were still clustered around the fire, or beginning to drift off to sleep, but she didn't want to draw their attention to her. She had never seen her reflection in a mirror since she set foot in England, but she knew that the determined jut of Much's jaw completely mirrored her own when she wanted her own way.

It was when Much flung his hands up in a mockery of impatience, looked upwards as if imploring the heavens for guidance and shook his head briskly in a perfect imitation of Djaq that she dissolved into peals of delighted laughter, "Stop it Much!" She managed to force out, when her head's screaming protests grew too painful to be ignored, "Ah, you'll kill me!"

Beaming, his mission accomplished, Much settled down beside her, pushing back the mop of dark hair that fell past her forehead in order to check the damage that Little John had inadvertently inflicted. It was getting long, he noticed distractedly; not the same cropped, shorn head of hair that she'd borne as a slave. Now starting to creep down towards the top edge of her jaw line, it was long enough for her to be recognised as a female. Pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind, Much inspected the bruise at her forehead intently, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth as he looked over the damage. Her skull had not been cracked, but the skin was split and already starting to discolour; the shades ranging from a deep purple which was almost beautiful to an ugly, deadened looking yellow. The entire mess contrasted oddly with her dark skin, and it made him frown, how ever distractedly. The bruise just…didn't look right on Djaq's head. Didn't fit. Drat John for not looking where he'd been swinging that quarterstaff – what a dunderhead.

Djaq had lain perfectly still as Much's fingers, roughened from years of gripping swords, preparing food and gripping the bridle of a horse, continued to gingerly press and prod at the bruise, testing how much it hurt, and how much damage had been inflicted to his skull. He was good, she had to give him that – well, the Saracen mused, years of looking after Robin, who managed to get into the worst kinds of scrapes, must have given a man cause to learn the rudiments of healing. Biting her lip as Much accidentally prodded the tender centre of the bruise, Djaq concentrated on watching Much's fingers adeptly inspect the bruise, and then make up a cold compress for her head. There was a deep gash in one of them – from where he'd been slicing carrots and managed to get distracted by Allan's typical horseplay. Djaq smothered a fond grin – Much was a dear soul, but also one of the most clumsy people she'd ever met in this world. As the compress was pressed against her brow, Much's work almost done, his sleeve slipped down from where it was usually covering his wrist, and fell down to his elbow. What Djaq saw made her start.

Layers and layers of bandages, far more than was needed, crudely wrapped around his left forearm. So makeshift an attempt that it was only Robin that could have constructed it. Which meant that the injury was such that Robin would not have trusted anyone but himself to treat his best friend.

The mass of material was not so great that it stopped Djaq from seeing the dark, drying blood that had seeped through the bandages.

Noticing Djaq's sudden change of demeanour, Much frowned, "Wha – " Eyes following her gaze, Much's expression turned from concerned to unmistakeably guilty, and for one moment Djaq could see him as a young child, coerced into some mischief by Robin and suddenly caught. Looking sheepish, his mouth stayed slightly opened, ashamed of being caught out so quickly, "Ah."

"Yes, ah," Djaq could not quite hide the note of disapproval in her voice, "Let me see."

"It's nothing!" Much protested feebly as she took his arm and began to unbind the bandages, "It's noth – It's – oh, you're doing it anyway."

Unpeeling the bandages, and inwardly wincing as each one became stickier with blood, Djaq fought to keep a calm expression. She'd seen so many wounded, so many injured and tortured that she lost count. She had treated nearly every injury that she could list, had felt the presence of Death watch over her shoulder as she fought for a dying man's life. And yet it was always so much worse when it was a friend. Ignoring Much's hisses of pain as the bandages became harder to unbind, Djaq concentrated on looking at the arm, trying to make it as impersonal as possible.

Biting down on her lip, hard, as the last bandage stuck fast to the wound, she grabbed Much's shoulder. Not bothering to warn him of the pain that would come; she could tell that he knew as much from the tension in his muscles, she eased the bandage steadily away from his wound, and stifled a gasp in her throat as Much cried out sharply. The morning-star had not caused lasting damage, but it had made a mess of Much's arm. The flesh was torn and mangled from being caught and dragged by the weapon's deadly spikes, and his skin had been ripped enough for her to see a muscle in his arm, discoloured from the bruises.

A second glance spoke no better tidings than the first, and this time she was not so quick to stifle her cry, "Oh Much!" Hands already scrabbling for the necessary equipment from her pack, she shook her head briskly.

"It's superficial," Much insisted, but weakly, knowing he was likely to loose the battle, "I'll just find it difficult to grip with my left hand for a little while," Stretching his arm out for Djaq to inspect in more detail, he grimaced, biting back a cry of pain as Djaq gently touched the wound, "but it'll be fine afterward."

"And you let Robin treat it!" Tutting with infuriation, Djaq glared warningly up at Much, "_And_ you carried me to my horse!" Her eyes resting on his arm again, she stiffened slightly as the full implications of her words struck home. The wound was deep, and looked ugly. How had Much managed to carry her, "Didn't it hurt?"

Face turning a shade of red as deep as the blood staining his arm, Much studied the ground with a seemingly fascinated interest, "Well….you know….A bit…" As Djaq snorted, he relented, "Alright, a lot….But I could hardly leave you in Allan or Will's hands, could I?"

No, he probably could not. Djaq knew enough of Much to know that when he felt responsible for someone, neither hell nor high water would come between him and them; nothing in the world would stop him from fulfilling his duty toward them – or, more likely, what he considered his duty. So far she'd only seen this kind of loyalty towards Robin. So far she'd thought that Much's burning loyalty could only be directed towards him alone.

Ignoring the warmth in her stomach at the thought that it could be directed towards her as well, Djaq gripped Much's shoulder reassuringly, before preparing to treat the wound.

-0-0-0-

The first thing she saw when she awoke was the pale, watery light of the waning moon. The rest of her room bathed in complete darkness, as if covered by a comforting blanket, and Marian was content to look out at the outline of the moon for a while, her mind suddenly too light to let her body go to sleep.

_Holy Mary, mother of God, let Robin be safe. Let him survive through all that will come to pass. Help me care for him; let me protect, but not smother him. Let me never take him for granted, allow me to see his faults and yet see past them. Mary, let me never stop loving him. Never let me get tempted again._

No, she could never be tempted by the dark glamour that surrounded Guy of Gisborne. But sometimes, late in the middle of the night, she did wonder. Wonder if she would ever fall into the trap of believing that she could love him. Wonder if she would ever let Robin down again.

Angry with the thought that there was even a possibility that it could happen, Marian swung her legs out of her bed and stood up, waving her hand impatiently as if to shake away the thoughts. Foolish. Utterly foolish. There was a certain mystery about Guy that would draw any woman to him, believing that he could be redeemed – but there was none of the honest, wholesomeness to him that Robin possessed in abundance. Even if Robin was flawed, desperately so, and had his own demons, he was _hers_.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders for warmth, her chemise too thin and insubstantial to keep the cold out, Marian padded tiredly through the hall, tiptoeing steadily past her father's door as she had already done on numerous occasions as the Nightwatchman, and downstairs toward the stables. It was a place she went when she could not sleep, had been ever since she was a child. The horses were used to her curling up in the hay next to them – her father was quite used to getting up in the morning and finding her fast asleep next to an equally exhausted horse.

Smiling slightly, and entering the stables, the young woman wandered around the various stalls, pausing to look in on and pat the dozing horses. Only one, her pure white palfrey, snorted and looked up as she stroked her hide gently, her hand moving in a careful, reassuring manner, until something made her stop the action.

A parcel, long and thin, wrapped in good, thick russet cloth, had been laid down next to her horse.

With some trepidation, and more than a hint of caution, Marian bent down and inspected the parcel. Her first thought was that it was some cruel prank of the Sheriff's, then that it was a well-meaning jest of Robin's – and then all theories vanished out of her mind as she unwrapped it to find a longbow.

It was a thing of beauty. Brilliantly well-crafted, the man who'd made this had engraved dozens of feathers onto the wood, making the surface look as though it was some brilliant, sweeping bird's wing. Marian's stomach almost dropped just looking at it.

It was amazing. It was beautiful. The workmanship was amazing. There was only one man she knew of who would be able to make something like this.

And Will Scarlett would only have made this bow under the direction of Robin.

Hugging the weapon to her chest, Marian suddenly felt no need for prayers.

-0-0-0-

"We still need to know what he's up to."

Little John looked up from where he had been preparing his pallet for sleep, "Agreed."

"We need to get into that tournament," Robin said forcefully, rearranging his own bedding, "Without any more information, we need to be there in order to stop whatever plan the Sheriff's cooking up this time. I can't believe he's invited Arnault de Remy to ride, purely out of interest. I _can't_."

Allan yawned, stretching his arms out widely. Sulien had fallen asleep by the fire half an hour ago, and since then he'd been in a much better mood. Even Sioned was easier to deal with if her big brother wasn't awake to egg her on, he thought, feeling much more charitable towards the young woman. Rubbing his sleep-laden eyes languidly, he grinned across at the two men, his mood altogether much brighter.

"So enter the tournament too. As another jouster. Puts you right in the thick of the action, so to speak."

Robin's reaction to the suggestion was surprising. Turning a deep red, he coughed distractedly, before turning back to his pallet as if he'd not heard a word Allan had said. His colour had faded down until it was a blanched, pale shade, although the back of his neck and the tips of his ears were still scarlet.

"What did I say?" Allan demanded.

Cradling his newly tended arm to his chest, Much approached the other men, a faint smile on his face. It felt a lot better to have his arm in the care of someone who knew what she was doing – the wound had been cleansed, the skin had been sewn up and the bandages were crisp, clean and white instead of blood-soaked rags, "What's the matter?"

"He suggested that Robin enter the jousting to keep an eye on de Remy," John, as confused as Allan, explained, "Robin…didn't seem impressed."

Much paused, shooting a covert look at Robin, before spluttering into laughter. Allan spread his arms under utter bemusement, "What's so funny about that?"

The manservant fought to keep his face straight, "Robin…ahm…..can't joust."

"_What_?"

"It's not funny!" Robin retorted, indignant, as be spun around, "If you must know…there was an unfortunate incident with a practice joust and a herd of cows – and that's all I'm saying on the subject!"

Allan snickered.

"Look, I just…can't balance out the lance in my arm while riding at top speed towards another man whose sole purpose is skewering me on an over-grown twig," The outlaw leader continued, sullen, "It's difficult!"

Nodding, almost shaking with suppressed laughter, John and Allan looked as though they were desperately fighting the urge to heckle. Much sighed theatrically.

"Alright, alright. What we need is some training."

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, practically cocooned in their respective bundles of blankets and looking extremely snug, Djaq and Sioned began to drift off to sleep. Now that there were two women in the gang, they had staked out a place for them to sleep a little way away from the others – 'To get away from John's snoring' Djaq had good-naturedly jested – and now they had settled down considerably faster than the men had.

Well, Djaq had. Sioned kept tossing and turning, as though something was bothering her.

"What's the matter?" Djaq mumbled, her voice thick and heavy with sleep. Now that Much had finished tending her wound, and she his, all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep, "Are you lying on an ant hill?"

"No." Even from where she lay, Djaq could just tell that Sioned was frowning. The camp was covered in darkness, but with the remaining light from the slowly dying campfire, she could just see the outline of Sioned's face, her slim nose and chin pointing upwards as she stared up towards the clear black sky.

"You look a little distracted."

In truth, Djaq cared little for her companion's sleep patterns, only that it didn't disturb her own. Usually she would have already risen, offering some sleep inducing potion or other, but tonight she was too tired. It made her groan to hear Sioned's voice again.

"It's probably nothing…I'm just thinking about something."

"Really…"

"Not really anything to worry about…"

"So don't worry then."

"But all the same, I feel like I should tell someone…"

Sensing a long discussion coming, Djaq half sat up in her bed, clutching at the cold compress that was slowly warming and keeping it pressed to her head, "Sioned…I don't wish to be rude, but I'm very tired, and very much in pain. I just need some sleep. Could you save it until morning please?" Hoping that she'd finished, Djaq lay back down again and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh of relief.

Sioned's lilting voice cut straight through the darkness.

"I kissed Will, Djaq."

Her eyes snapped open. Before she knew it, Djaq had sat bolt upright in her bed, not even attempting to keep the compress balanced, "What? _Will_? You…you kissed….tonight, you…" All her English seemed to desert her in one swoop, and she was left with only Arabic to voice her stunned thoughts.

"Or he kissed me," Sioned propped herself up on one elbow to look over at Djaq, "One or the other, I'm not even sure myself…all I know is that there was kissing involved, and there was Will involved, and there was me. That's the only thing I'm sure of."

Djaq had never been one to gossip. Even when she was Sapphia, she had little time for telling tales and listening to what was going on with who, and when; preferring the quiet words she was dealt while working with her father during his treatment of the sick. But suddenly a hundred questions rushed to the forefront of her mind.

"How…_when_? Why? Was this when you took him out to sober up? Does Allan know? Does your _brother_ know? Is that why you've been so short with each other? Why's Will acting so touchy? Did he treat you well? What's going to happen now?"

The outline of Sioned's lips twitched as she laughed quietly, "Look who wants to talk now."

Djaq reached out to bat Sioned across the arm, "Don't tease, you minx. Tell me everything!"

"And I thought you weren't the gossiping kind," Ducking as Djaq took another good-natured swipe at her, Sioned became serious, "I'm not entirely sure. I was very drunk – extremely drunk, as a matter of fact. I'd just found out about Sulien's theft from Gisborne, and I was so worried about him, I thought he was going to get into some kind of trouble," She paused for effect and made a face, "Which he did, I guess. And I was so upset, and I think Will tried to comfort me. Well, _tried_," Sioned snorted derisively, "What followed was the sort of encounter that would have my brother reaching for his gutting knife and my father climbing the walls."

Djaq raised her eyebrows. She would not, _would not_, ask the question that was burning in her mind. Stifling a smirk, she swallowed her laughter, "And…what now?"

"What do you mean, what now? Nothing!" Sioned lowered her voice, but it was still hissing urgently, "Not only do I find Will infuriating, hopeless, and completely impossible to deal with, but he's just made this situation ten times more worse than it ever could have been! Nothing will ever happen because I never want to remain in his presence ever again!"

Sighing, Djaq bit back the comment that Will had probably only been trying to comfort her, that he had only been trying to make the situation better, but had been led by desire, just like so many other young men. Or his heart, she added quietly in the privacy of her own thoughts. And Will had little to no knowledge of women, she reasoned – how was he supposed to know what Sioned was feeling, or how she would take offence? But she held her tongue, because this was the first young woman she'd come across in this country who she felt she could offer the hand of friendship to, and she needed that as much as Sioned did.

Instead, she smirked, and asked the question.

"So…is he a good kisser?"

Sioned gasped, but choked back a peal of laughter at the same time, and batted her lightly across the arm.

It didn't stop Djaq from badgering her for the rest of the night though.

Djaq couldn't remember enjoying the joys of womanhood and female comradeship more.

-0-0-0-

Allan's eyes grew as wide as cart wheels as he listened to Will speak, his mouth falling open without him even realising it.

"You…you kissed…_Sioned_?! Sioned Thornton? _That_ Sioned?!"

His face creasing up, as it always did when Will was confused, or irritated, Will rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his rolled-up cloak over his head, looking as though he wanted to do the same thing to the situation – push it under a cloak and forget about it, "I didn't mean to," He groaned, his voice slightly muffled through the layers of material, "She was afraid for her brother, and she was really vulnerable – _and_ she was drunk…and before I knew it, I'd just…"

Allan chuckled lasciviously, unfolding his legs from where he'd been perched, cross-legged, on his pallet while Will spun his tale, and buried down under his bedding which, as usual, was laid side-by-side next to Will's. Little John, a mere outline against the horizon now, was standing watch, and the rest of the gang were fast asleep – a mercy for Will's privacy. "Taking advantage of a distraught girl, Will….How could you?" His words were reproachful, but the sly glint in his eye and the impressed tone of his voice told a different story. Indeed, Allan looked quite proud of his best friend, "I must be having a bad effect on you."

Withdrawing from his sanctuary, Will glowered resentfully over at Allan. The effect was marred slightly by the fact that his hair had been ruffled by the cloak, and was now sticking out in every direction. Added to Will's blanket being tightly wrapped around his shoulders, and Allan was not so much cowed as amused – Will looked more like an indignant eight year old than anything else.

"I did not '_take advantage of her'_!" Will hissed furiously, making a feeble attempt to smooth his hair back down.

"What're you doing down here for, then? I'll distract Djaq and you can join Sioned – no-one'll notice!"

"Shut up! And don't you dare! I didn't – I – have you been talking to Sioned?"

"No more than necessary," Sitting up again, Allan got up and spat on his hand, absent-mindedly flattening Will's hair back. Making a face, Will ducked his head, but chose not to wriggle away, "Why?"

"Because she said the same thing! _She_ said I took advantage of her too!" Will's tone was indignant and resentful – Allan suspected that his pride had been injured by Sioned's words, "I _stopped_ it! Well, practically. I suppose. Well, I didn't start up again after we heard Sulien!" You could tell when Will felt injured or hard done by, Allan mused thoughtfully – he started talking, "_And_ I've never gone as far with a girl before as I did with Sioned, _but_ I stopped – I should get a medal for that!"

Allan chuckled, still intent on making Will's hair stop looking like a hedgepig's spines, "Well, maybe we'll get Robin to have a chat with King Richard when he returns," Winking to show that he was only joking, he patted Will's back, his work done, "Finished. Might give you a bit more luck with the lasses if your head stops looking like a clothes brush," Pausing in mid-smirk, Will's words struck the camp Lothario, "Hey, when you said that – you mean you haven't – "

"No."

"How about – "

"Never."

"I suppose – "

"No!"

Allan paused to give this some thought. It took a great deal of thought, actually, "…Oh."

Will's ears had gone a brilliant red. Unconsciously, one hand moved up to his head and began to rumple his hair again.

Inside, Allan was secretly marvelling at his best friend. Having been able to charm lasses out from under the parental (or marital, on occasion) wing since he was younger than Will was now, the thought of never being with female companionship was…startling. He gave out a low whistle. On top of that, he was impressed with his friend's restraint. Imagine having Sioned Thornton, who was a peach if he ever saw one, distraught, vulnerable and in your arms, and not making a play for her, "Blimey, Will, how long have you been that much of a martyr?"

The younger man made a face, having successfully made a new mess of his hair, "I'm not a martyr! It's what any decent man would have done!"

Allan tried to look innocent.

"Wouldn't they?"

"Weeelll…." The Southerner tried to study the stars above him, avoiding Will's eye fixatedly, "Let's just say that if _I'd_ been in your position, Sulien Thornton would probably be asking for my head on a silver platter by now. Or any other part of my anatomy he might prefer."

Will winced, unconsciously pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Yeah, but you're…well, impossible. And I don't even care!" Even Will looked unconvinced, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side, "I really don't!"

"I know you don't," Allan replied soothingly, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. Inwardly, he wondered if he could dose Sioned with a few tankards worth of mead and push him in the direction of his best friend. God knew, the lad looked as though he needed it. He'd never seen anyone so tightly wound during Sioned and Sulien's first meal together, and Allan knew it wasn't to do with his anger towards Sioned, "Course, we could go back to visit Rohese and her friends later, if you like. She's got red hair too."

"Shut up."

"Is that a no?"

"Of course it is," He mumbled into his knees, a mixture of exhaustion and distress on his face. It had been a long day, "I don't know what to do, Allan. She's so _impossible_ and drives me to distraction but I…I can't get her out of my head!" Will groaned, his eyes screwed up tightly. It sounded as if he was forcing each word out through clenched teeth, "I just can't stop thinking about her; and even though I can't _stand_ her, I keep wondering if…if maybe she…Dammit!"

Allan sighed, ruffling the younger boy's hair in a futile attempt to calm him. It almost hadn't been worth trying to tidy it up in the first place, "Well, you've always got me, mate."

Will opened his eyes to grin faintly up at him. After a moment's consideration, he frowned, "You think we spend too much time together?"

"I think we do, yeah."

Grinning, Allan ruffled Will's hair once last time, before going back to his own pallet, "G'night."

"Night Allan."

Poor little sod, Allan thought as his head hit the ground. If he gets any sleep tonight then I'm the Earl of Chester.

* * *

**A/N:** Teehee again...I torture dear Will far, far too much...


	14. Chapter 14: Jousting and Jealousy

**A/N:** SEASON TWO SEASON TWO SEASON TWO...

Ahem...As brilliant as it is, pretend it doesn't exist in this fic. Otherwise it'll get _way _too complicated to follow. Sorry I haven't updated for a while...GCSE pressure. Gah. Horrible. Want to curl in a corner and die.

**Chapter Fourteen: Jousting and Jealousy**

"You can't make me do it!" 

Much, hands on hips like a fishwife, glared warningly at Robin, "Robin…"

"No! I _won't_!" As he folded his arms and crossed his legs, Marian was reminded irresistibly of Robin as a ten year old. The mischievous, troublesome little tyke who would have to be coaxed, cozened and eventually bullied into doing anything he didn't want to do, "You can't make me get on that horse _or_ practise jousting, and that's that!"

"Robin, do not be such a child," Marian rolled her eyes pointedly, silently feeling for Much. Even though she loved him, the fact that Much managed to cope with her beloved all day, every day was…impressive.

Robin scowled up at her, and the young woman steeled herself not to laugh, "Easy for you to say. I don't see you volunteering for certain death."

"And here I was thinking you were the bravest man in the whole of England." 

The young man's face started to split into a smug, self-satisfied grin. Marian could see it was taking every muscle in his body not to flash it around at everyone else as if to boast, "I must be if I'm courting you."

The indulgent smile on Marian's face disappeared, and she pointed to the horse, "Get on it, now!"

Robin stuck his chin in the air, every atom of his body giving off the message 'Shan't. Much, Marian and Friar Tuck simultaneously rolled their eyes. Gritting his teeth, Little John decided to take the more practical notion, and, setting down his staff, strode up to the young outlaw, grabbed him around the waist and set him over his shoulder.

"You," The man mountain announced to the world in general, while Marian almost doubled up with laughter, clutching a half amused, half indignant Much for support, "Are learning to joust." Ignoring the kicks and punches that Robin, his head hanging down towards the ground, dealt him, John caught the horse's bridle with his spare hand, and dumped Robin unceremoniously into the saddle.

Robin did _not_ look happy.

His pout becoming more pronounced by the minute, Robin sullenly took the homemade lance that Will had carefully produced from Much, gripping it as another might have gripped a crucifix. Glumly, he shot an agonised look at Friar Tuck, "I don't suppose there's a blessing for a horse, is there Friar?"

Tuck looked as though he was trying desperately hard to keep a straight face. To give him credit, thought Marian, who had only met the man a few times, he was managing to succeed – for the most part, "Consider it done," He choked out, "I expect a regular blessing will do the trick."

Robin didn't look convinced. Crossing himself, and ignoring the rolled eyes from Marian, he looked across the clearing to where Sulien, looking as terrified as he felt, held up a makeshift wooden shield – courtesy of Will, again – high above his head, "Ready Sulien?"

"NO!"

"Take that as a yes," Much advised his master comfortingly, "Don't use it as an excuse to bolt."

Making a face, the outlaw leader gripped the lance with his right arm, clutching the wood tightly, and tightened the grip of his knees against the horse. He just couldn't get the image of cows out of his head…_Be brave_, he counselled himself, swallowing, and dug his heels into the horse's sides, urging it into a canter towards Sulien.

The lance missed by miles.

Running over to where Sulien, wide-eyed, pasty-faced and shaking, was trembling, Much grimaced as Robin wheeled the horse back, looking thoroughly put out, "Ah, don't worry master!" He called reassuringly, while patting Sulien on the back. It looked as though the young man needed comforting more than his master, "It was only the first time…"

"I'm not doing that again," Sulien forced through chattering teeth, "Damn thing nearly skewered me!"

"Don't be silly," Much rolled his eyes at the still-shaking young man, "He didn't touch you. Beside, it's all going to be worth it. There's plenty of prizes going to be won at the joust; and if we win, Robin won't keep quiet about it. Just imagine it getting out that we've bested the Sheriff again! We could get…well, glory and riches from this! It'll be well worth it!"

The new outlaw shot an appraising look at Much, "Glory and riches?"

"Right! Well worth a little jousting practice."

"Of course," Sulien's eye glinted slyly, his expression sliding into one that was often seen on both his face and his sister. Looking triumphant, he handed the wooden shield to Much, "Which is why _you_ can do it."

Much looked down at the shield in his hands. Ah.

-0-0-0-

Allan was beginning to wish he hadn't volunteered for this. Sure, he had managed to get out of training up Robin to become a jouster – he just _knew_ someone would volunteer him to be a training dummy – but now he was sitting in a bloody uncomfortable chair, too nervous to shift and watching Eleanor of Lincoln out of the corner of his eye, just _waiting_ for the besom to swing at him again.

_And we need to make contact with Marcus again. See if he's heard anything else,_ Allan thought blackly, remembering Robin's words, _I know it won't be easy, but you're the most well-known in that house, Allan. See what you can find out. And for pity's sake, don't insult Marcus or try it on with his fiancé._

Well, he had just finished talking with that useless, pathetic, spineless whelp of a merchant – Allan had given up trying to be polite towards Marcus ever since he'd lost his temper in the Trip to Jerusalem inn – and guess what? Nothing. Not a sausage. Not a single, rotten clue. Marcus was unable to tell them anything else; either that, or he refused to help. Allan fervently hoped it was the second. Any chance to vent his feelings on Eleanor's fiancé would be well appreciated.

Anyway, he'd managed to get through the discussion with no threats of violence, and no insults; no matter how tersely his questions had been dealt. Marcus had left, sensing the resentment in Allan bubbling just underneath the surface. Allan was relieved. One more moment of seeing the man being so courteous and noble to Eleanor and he would have snapped.

Now he just had to make sure he didn't let Robin down.

It was harder than he remembered. As much as he joked that the only reason he was so keen on Eleanor was because she was the only lass who hadn't been blown over by his charms, and as soon as she succumbed he'd move onto the next girl, it was hard to think along those lines when Eleanor was in the same room as he was, absent-mindedly tidying away goblets and plates, and occasionally shooting a glare in his direction. It was those looks that managed to distract him completely from whatever had been going through his mind, making him eternally grateful that he was sitting down. His knees would have given way otherwise.

Why was she always so stiff with him? _Why_ was she so bloody pitiless? Allan had always been disdainful of the minstrels and troubadours who were always languishing or whatever the word was because of the pain their cruel mistresses were dealing them, but to be honest he was beginning to see their point. As Eleanor turned around with a haughty sniff to pour some wine, he was beginning to think that Eleanor's treatment was well-worth a few days sulking in Sherwood.

_Why_ on earth was she always treating him this way? Even before she had become betrothed to Marcus, she'd always been cold towards him…

"Here," A goblet of wine was pushed into his hands, breaking off Allan's train of thought, "You'll be thirsty after coming from the forest."

It seemed as though she was forcing the words through gritted teeth. Resentfully trying to rile her further, Allan leant backwards in the chair, stretching like a cat and smiling lazily up at her, "Thanks, Eleanor. Didn't realise you cared so much."

"Don't be ridiculous," Eleanor retorted, before turning her back on him, tossing her golden hair back from her face as she did so. With Sioned, Allan had found the gesture amusing, almost endearing, but with Eleanor it sent a thrill of pure lust shuddering through him. He shifted in his seat, thoroughly discomforted, and wondered how long he'd have to spend in Eleanor's company before his resolve broke. "I'm just being a good hostess, that's all."

Allan made a face, before getting to his feet, "An' here was me thinking a good hostess always made a guest feel welcome," He muttered dryly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The young man gritted his teeth. Every second here just made Robin's plea seem weaker and weaker, and even Eleanor's sharp rebuffs were driving him to a mild distraction, "It means that you have never exactly been what I'd call friendly towards me. Even before you were betrothed to Marcus," It took every ounce of self-control to not utter an insult against the man, "you've always been cold towards me. It's not even as if you've given me the chance to prove myself to you," Allan took a deep breath, and decided to plunge straight in. At least the gang would never find out about this, "Look, you know how I feel about you. Can't you at least acknowledge that?"

Through his talking, Eleanor hadn't turned around, but by her tense posture he could see she was listening, "Do I? I sometimes don't know about you Allan. Sometimes I wonder if the thrill's more in the chase for you than it is in the woman herself."

"Sometimes?" Allan pounced on the word like a dog on a piece of meat, "You don't think like that all the time?" When Eleanor didn't answer, he moved closer towards her, letting one finger rest on her upper arm and gently stroking up and down, "Eleanor, are you afraid of me?"

Eleanor's laugh was hoarse and shaky; the distance between them suddenly too large and the air fraught with tension, "Don't be ridiculous," She repeated, but with considerably less conviction.

"Eleanor …" Allan whispered, his own voice thick and barely audible. And then, because she hadn't pushed him away and he was too caught up in the moment, he softly put his arm around Eleanor's stomach from behind, pulling her up against him, and pushed the long blond hair away from her shoulders, enabling him to lean down and gently kiss her neck. When she did nothing, apart from emit a ragged sigh, he tried his luck again, trailing kisses up from her collar-bone to just behind her ear, and then turned her around and kissed her lips, threading his fingers through her hair.

It was everything he'd ever dreamed of, however ridiculous that may have sounded in his head, to be this close to her, to kiss her lips, her closed eyes, her forehead. To finally have the woman in his arms, to have her tentatively kiss him back, to hear the sharp gasp from her as the kiss intensified. It was everything he'd hoped for.

And yet he shouldn't have been surprised when she pushed him away.

"What did you do that for?!" Allan couldn't help yelping indignantly as Eleanor's hands roughly slapped him away, and she ducked out of his arms to stand behind the trestle. In truth, it was rather a stupid question; but he'd just started to get used to the idea that he was finally kissing Eleanor of Lincoln, and just started to get things started, when she'd pushed him away. In Allan's mind that was well-worth a little indignation.

Eleanor's whole appearance was flustered, not helped by the fact that her hair was out of place from where Allan had run his fingers through it. Face starting to flush bright red with anger, she began to tuck it back behind her ear with trembling fingers, "Me? _Me_? I should have known I couldn't trust you, Allan! You're _always_ going to think of just one thing, aren't you?"

Turning a slightly red shade himself, Allan scowled. That wasn't fair. Admittedly, the one thing hadn't been far from his mind when he'd kissed her, but at the same time, not the only thing. He knew he loved the young woman, and yet…why couldn't she just give him one chance to show that he wasn't all that bad?

Probably because something like _this_ would happen.

"That's not fair," He muttered sourly, kicking at the floor.

Eleanor spluttered, having successfully tamed her hair, "It's perfectly fair! Why do you always have to _spoil_ things?"

"It's not just me! You're always…you never…" A broil of anger, disappointment, embarrassment and thwarted lust was churning away inside of Allan, and he didn't like it at all, "You're so bloody impossible, Eleanor!" He shouted angrily.

Fists unclenching and clenching at her sides, Eleanor flung out one trembling arm to point at the door, "I think you'd better leave," She replied coldly, her voice not betraying a single tremor.

"I think I'd better," Allan forced through clenched teeth, his jaw set, and without a backwards glance at Eleanor, pulled up his hood and stormed out the door. He managed to get about ten paces away from the house before groaning in despair, thoroughly infuriated with both Eleanor and himself.

Well. That had gone…just fine. Just when he wanted to fix things between them, he seemed to have created an irrevocable rift between them. He could never see things changing now.

_If this is love_, Allan thought bitterly, kicking at the street below his feet, _then I am sick of it._

-0-0-0-

"Don't worry about it," Sulien said calmingly, "Look, I've done a lot of this sort of thing – you get better with practice! You've seen me in Loxley, you _know_ I'm good!"

Robin had to admit that, yes, Sulien was good at jousting. The young man had a natural ability that he, Robin, seemed to lack. Robin didn't understand why _Sulien_ couldn't put _his_ life on the line.

"Just….keep practising. Have another shot at it," Patting the horse's flanks reassuringly, as if he felt more sorry for the horse than his leader, Sulien signalled to Much, "Ready?"

"No!" Much wailed dismally, "My arm is _injured_! I shouldn't be doing this!"

"It's a light piece of wood, Much," Sulien reassured him, "Djaq said it would be fine…He's coming!"

Much felt that he'd be able to find this out by himself. He'd been doing this for an hour or so now, and wasn't finding it much fun. Holding the shield up as high as he could, he was beginning to wish he had his own, steel shield in front of him. He would feel much better about this thing if he only had something _in front of him_.

"Just….keep calm," He muttered to himself as Robin dug his heels in again, "Just remember, glory and riches."

Robin was getting very close…

"Glory and riches…glory and riches….glory and riches!" Much kept repeating as the horse and lance got nearer, before his courage gave out and he dove straight out of Robin's path.

Rolling his eyes pointedly, Little John strode over and grabbed a struggling Much by the scruff of the neck, while Sulien chuckled appreciatively. "Come on, will you just hold it?!" He demanded gruffly, holding the younger man with both shoulders while Robin, face burning with embarrassment, rode the horse round with a circle and started up again, "Hold still for two seconds…you're wriggling like a minnow."

Much was indeed squirming and struggling; his belief being that, if God had protected him through the carnage of the Holy Land, he had a plan for him that was not getting skewered by Robin. As Robin started up at them again, he abandoned all pretence at bravery, and dropped the shield.

On John's foot.

As Robin thundered past, his expression mutinous, and Little John howled with pain, Much widened his eyes innocently, "You see how dangerous it is?"

John just glared at him.

Much grinned haplessly, "Perhaps I'd better go do deliveries with Djaq now."

"I think…" Little John growled, "that would be a good idea."

-0-0-0-

"You're an idiot."

Much grinned feebly across at Djaq, "Probably true. But _maybe_," Here Djaq rolled her eyes, laughing as she saw Much get into his stride, "_maybe_, my intelligence is shown by my self-preservation. I mean, anyone who volunteered to be a target for Robin and that over-grown arrow has _got_ to be lacking in brains. I mean, surely…"

Djaq shoved him lightly, making sure that it was a shove on the arm that wasn't injured, "Like I said, you're an idiot."

"Alright, that's a possibility too," Much conceded, bending over the market stall to look longingly at all the different pies set out, "But I still say – oh, hullo Peter."

A man that could have been aged anywhere between twenty and thirty, Peter Machin was, as his name suggested, a stone worker who lived in Nottingham. Dark haired and dark eyed, he was usually quite friendly towards the outlaws; particularly Djaq. Ever since he'd realised she was a Saracen woman, in fact. Much had never been bothered, or indeed noticed Peter's preoccupation with the woman, but seeing him smile charmingly at Djaq was quite off-putting.

"Good morning, Master Much," Peter replied, not once taking his eyes off Djaq, "And Demoiselle Djaq…"

Much almost choked on the pie he had just bought. Demoiselle?! From a stone worker? Surely Djaq wouldn't be so blind as to be impressed by such a courtly address. But as he shot a look across at Djaq, he couldn't help but be riled by the flattered smile gracing her face.

_Demoiselle?_ Much thought furiously as Peter started to engage Djaq in conversation, _I think I hate him._

-0-0-0-

"I am sorry, Father – truly."

Thornton sighed heavily, "It would be the first time you've been sorry these past five years. I warned you about Gisborne, Sulien…"

"I know! And I didn't mean it to get this far…_Or_ to involve Sioned. That was just an accident, I swear," Sulien's despondent sigh echoed his father's, "Master Robin's looking after us now, though. He won't let any harm come to us."

As Thornton snorted, maybe in amusement, maybe in disbelief, Godwin Taylor bristled from where he'd been standing just outside the family circle of Thornton, Sulien and Hannah. He could have seen Sulien becoming outlawed a mile off; and it was obvious that Robin of Loxley would take him in. But Sioned going into the forest with her brother – that he had not seen. And now she was in that forest, in a gang that contained, among others, Allan A Dale and Will Scarlett. The thought of the young carpenter and his Sioned alone in that forest made his stomach clench. It was not to be borne.

"We'll be alright, Father," Sulien stressed, "Even Will Scarlett and Allan A Dale have been getting better; I have their word that they'll leave Sioned alone."

Godwin stifled a disdainful cough. As if you could trust the word of an outlaw.

"You judge them too harshly," Thornton murmured gently, causing Godwin to scowl, "They've always been good to us…they'll look after you now."

As Sulien, composure slipping, embraced his father, Godwin ground his teeth furiously. Outlaws…his best friend had just been turned into one, and the girl he intended to marry into one too. Not that this deterred him in the slightest – if anything, it just made him more intent on getting Sioned for himself. There was no way that he would allow Will Scarlett to get further into Sioned's heart than him.

No way at all.

-0-0-0-

"Phillip Bracey shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a lute," Will laughed as the young Phillip, holding a birthday present with careful awe, started to pluck out a few notes. Next to him, Sioned and a few of her friends, including Sulien's current girl, Julitta, stood around like a gaggle of geese, enjoying themselves thoroughly, "Still, they seem to be enjoying themselves."

Allan drove his clenched fists further into his pockets. He'd come to Baker Street in the hope that maybe, just maybe, his best friend would be able to cheer him up; but so far, nothing. He just felt more sick. The infuriating broil was still churning away inside of him, "You think it's a good idea for her to draw attention to herself, do you?" He snapped.

Will turned around, startled, "She's just saying goodbye," He said calmingly, as Julitta snatched the lute away and started to play herself, the melody a lot more tuneful than Phillip's attempts, "What's the matter with you?"

He shouldn't have said. But before he had a chance to think, Allan had spilled the entire thing.

His eyes growing wider and wider, Will shook his head, "Are you insane?"

"No." Angry that the first words Will spoke had not been ones of comfort or reassurance, Allan was riled further, "You think I am, don't you?"

"I think you need your head seeing to. How could you kiss Eleanor? She's betrothed!"

"Yeah? You're a fine one to talk when it comes to kissing!"

Face turning red, knowing what Allan was talking about but not willing to listen, Will glowered at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean you're a fool for berating me when you had Sioned in your arms not a few days ago!"

He'd said it. Angry that Allan had brought up something so delicate, so tender, Will flushed further. "That's different!"

"How? Go on, tell me how!" When Will felt silent, Allan continued, "Stop being so bloody sanctimonious, Will, and talk to me about this when you're grown-up enough to understand."

As Will turned away, Allan gritted his teeth bitterly, knowing in his heart that Will was right, but not wanting to accept it. At the moment, in the pit of his stomach, he just wanted to hurt his best friend. It wasn't an emotion he was used to.

As Sioned, oblivious, started tapping out a beat to the music with her foot, Allan found himself staring for longer than he would have. Unsure of himself, unsure of the emotions in his heart. All he really knew was that he wanted to get to Will, and Sioned was the way to do it.

* * *

**A/N:** I do love Allan...But...well. It's Allan. He has to do something stupid in every fic...


	15. Chapter 15: Playing With Fire

**Chapter Fifteen: Playing with Fire**

AKA: I can't be bothered to come up with another alliteration title, and I'll give cookies to anyone who thinks up one :P

The older man groaned slightly as he moved his bed, trying to ease the pain flaring up through his stomach. Little use – nothing seemed to stop the pain now. His sister by marriage told him that the pain would eventually cease, but he wasn't so out of his wits that he didn't realise it would have to be through death. It didn't seem to matter anymore. All he truly regretted now was not seeing his son again.

The young man in front of him shuffled his feet anxiously. The old man was fond of him, and despite a brief period at the beginning of their friendship, when the young man was still ashamed of himself for his betrayal towards the old man's sons, and the older man resented him for not being his eldest son, they had formed a good relationship. The young man was to him, if not a son, than a nephew, and despite having neither the skill or the passion of his son, he was a good apprentice.

"Don't be so nervous, lad," The old man rasped, and winced inwardly as he heard how much of a death-rattle his voice was, "Lukey….he's….he's…"

"He's run off," The young man said to the floor, unable to meet his friend's gaze, "I tried to stop him, honest I did, but he just wouldn't listen. Says he wants to go to Nottingham."

Choking back a laugh, the old man made an unconscious move to clutch his hands together, then winced as his right hand closed on air. Another thing taken away from him, "I'm surprised he stayed for this long. Lukey couldn't ever bear to be around the dying – don't flinch, lad, we both know I'm going – and he's been missing Will something awful." Clenching his teeth as another wave of pain swept over him, Dan Scarlett smiled weakly at Benedict Giddons, "Don't worry, Benedict. He'll be safe. He's got his brother to look after him."

-0-0-0-

"I give up," Grinning, Sioned pulled herself up to perch on the low wall where Much and Djaq were already swinging their feet and watching the other young people, "I can't dance when Philip's playing. He's too fast, and I've already turned my ankle twice. Where've you two been, anyway?"

Djaq shrugged, her eyes still watching with considerable interest as Julitta spun, twirled, and hopped straight into the path of another young woman, "Deliveries. And we met Peter Machin in the market."

Much muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Demoiselle' under his breath.

Shooting a bemused look at Much, and then putting his huffy scowl down to just being Much, Sioned continued watching her friends carefully, her grey eyes focussing on Allan and Will. On opposite sides of the street, the young men were studiously ignoring each other, their arms folded and the posture rigid and tense. It seemed so strange and unreal that it took her a few seconds to process the image; she'd never seen Allan and Will so obviously angry with each other. Truth be told, she'd never seen either of them not thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Bewildered, Sioned raised a hand in greeting towards Allan as she caught his eye, before frowning at the angry, determined look burning in his eyes as he looked over. She'd never seen Allan look like that before.

Unsettled, not wanting to be caught by the unwavering stare, Sioned turned slightly from where she sat, eagerly engaging herself in conversation with Much and Djaq. At least the conversation was simple and innocent, as Much described in great and elaborate detail of Robin's many (and, Much hastened to add, futile) attempts to joust, and Djaq retold a yarn that Peter had told her (Much scowled again), Sioned found her reservations slipping away, the unnerving air in her stomach that she'd felt from Allan's stare disappearing. Finally she felt brave enough to bring up Allan and Will's obvious disagreement.

"You haven't heard anything, have you?"

Much shrugged, biting into the pie he clutched in his hand, "Seemed alright when I last saw them. It's probably nothing, Sioned – wouldn't worry about it."

"Whatever argument they had will be over in a matter of hours," Djaq added, reassuring her, "It's just men's nature."

Ignoring Much's good-natured yelp, Sioned bit her lip, not entirely convinced, "It just doesn't seem right. I've never seen them fight with each other before."

"Relax; it's probably nothing anyway." Slipping down from her perch and leaning back against the wall, Djaq shot a sly look up at Sioned, "Of course, if you wanted to reconcile them quickly, you could always sweeten Will's temper by apologising."

Sioned scowled, "No."

"Apologise? What for?"

"You know it would work," Ignoring Much, Djaq turned around to prop her elbows against the wall, giving her a better opportunity to stare challengingly at Sioned, "And you know that you were in the wrong for blaming him."

"I wasn't. It was his entire fault anyway!" The young woman retorted furiously, flushing, "And I'm certainly not apologising!"

"_What for_?!" Much demanded petulantly.

"Or…are you afraid of getting too carried away?"

"Djaq! That's not…I'm….I'm not afraid of anything!" Leaping down from her perch, Sioned folded her arms, her jaw set, "I'll go and apologise right now, then I'll show you! I'll – oh."

As Sioned grimaced at being caught out, Djaq smirked slightly, "He's over there if you want to."

The youngest outlaw made a face, before turning on her heel and flouncing off, just as Much slid down, looking mutinous, "Why does no-one ever tell me what's going on around here?"

-0-0-0-

Looking distinctly muddy, Robin raised his head from where he had toppled off the horse for the umpteenth time, glowered darkly at Friar Tuck and John, before letting it fall back to the ground again. The wooden shield was still hanging doggedly from the branch, no-one being brave enough to hold it up for Robin, radiating a certain degree of Robin-esque smugness.

Little John shot a pained look at Tuck.

"I think he's getting worse."

"He is getting worse."

-0-0-0-

To get to his horse, he would have to move past Allan. Cursing, and wondering why he hadn't brought his horse with him when he'd stormed off, Will drove his hands deep into his pockets, studiously glaring at the floor as he moved past Philip and Julitta to the horse, turning his head pointedly so to ignore the young man who was still standing next to it.

As he untethered the animal, Will found his movements getting even more brusque and sharp with every moment that his thoughts were allowed to gather. Allan had always been thoughtless, knowing where the line was drawn but occasionally putting a toe across it, but now – the young man scowled. What gave Allan the right to bring up Sioned? That was private, and personal; not to mention it was a delicate subject. And just because Allan was miffed that Eleanor had rebuffed him – again – he had just brought it up again. It was so unlike Allan that Will felt the first twinges of bewilderment tug at him, underneath the hurt and fury.

But he could still feel the anger burning away at him. As he finally freed the horse, Will risked a look across at Allan, who was staring coldly in the opposite direction, very obviously not saying anything; before kicking at the ground, "You're a foul little bsad, you know that?"

His eyes hardening, Allan shot an unfeeling look in Will's direction, not bothering to turn around, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! Just because you're upset with Eleanor doesn't mean you should bring up Sioned!" As Allan snorted disdainfully, Will plunged in recklessly, "No wonder Eleanor pushed you away."

If he had been annoyed at Allan's lack of reaction from his first words, Will was now rewarded as Allan spun around, the blue eyes that had seemed so chilling and insensitive now burning brightly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

For a few seconds Will considered backing down, before his resolve hardened. What Allan had said about Sioned had hurt; and if his best friend could do it, so could he. "I mean that if she's already _betrothed _to a man with a sense of decency; no wonder she rebuffed an outlaw who couldn't care less about her anyway!" Already regretting his words, Will continued anyway, "A-and who she probably hates as well!"

The older man's hands folded into fists, and Will took an involuntary step backwards, sure he had crossed the line. For a few moments, Allan said nothing, but clenched his teeth, as if trying to keep his anger in check. When he finally did speak, it was not without tremors of anger in his voice, "You don't know anything about it. You kiss one lass and think you know everything there is to know about them; but you're just as naïve as a child in the cradle." Naïve, not innocent, Will noted with irritation, but kept silent. "You don't know anything about the world, Will; so keep your nose out of my business and don't presume to judge what you think Eleanor might believe!"

"It's the only thing she could believe."

Allan snorted as Will put his foot jarringly into the stirrup, mounting the horse swiftly, "You think? You're such a purblind fool that you can't even cope with Sioned! You kiss her once and get into such a bloody state that it makes me sick! And you think she might want more from you?" Allan had been stung so badly by Will's words that he didn't care anymore. Ignoring the hurt that was playing over Will's features as he spoke, the outlaw continued to speak, drawing out everything he could think of. "You might keep thinking about her, but do you honestly believe she cares about you? At all? She made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing more – and yet you still think she might? You're pathetic! It's men like Gisborne that impress her, not you! Even Godwin Taylor…you think she'd choose some penniless carpenter's son over _him_?"

Will visibly flinched from Allan's words, horrified that his best friend had actually given voice to the thoughts that had sometimes, in the dead of night, started to tug away at him. He knew how secure Godwin Taylor was in comparison to an outlaw who was on the run from the Sheriff and his men; a carpenter's son. He'd just never thought that Allan might one day use that to get to him. Trying to hide the distress that was so obvious in his expression, Will stared at the ground, unable to meet Allan's eyes. His words were spiteful, cutting to the bone, and made him feel sick... ashamed that he was not as 'high' as Godwin, not as wealthy, not as secure... But more than that, he was betrayed and angry that Allan thought that it mattered.

Shaking his head, the young man made a visible effort to swallow his bile down, "Eleanor was right to push you away." He forced out, his words hoarse and shaking, "If I'm pathetic, than you're just as much as I am. She's betrothed…a-and you keep chasing, even thought you don't have a chance. Even if she wasn't…she doesn't care. I don't blame her for saying you disgust her. You disgust me too."

With that, he reigned the horse in, whirling around and riding back down Baker Street, almost knocking into Sioned as she walked past. Frowning, tucking her red hair behind her ears, the young woman gestured helplessly to Allan. "What happened?"

Allan stood, stunned from Will's words. He knew he'd been harsh but…Will had known the exact words that would hurt, and he'd used them. Perhaps both of them were to blame – but it looked like neither would back down. Sighing, he shook his head, unable to look at Sioned.

"Nothing that you need worry about. Just leave me alone, alright?"

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, as soon as he'd gotten deep into Nottingham town, Will dismounted, his heart hammering. Had he but known it, he was thinking exactly the same way as Allan was. Perhaps he had been too cutting, knowing that his words about Eleanor would hurt Allan deeply. Perhaps he should go back. Their friendship was already teetering on the rocks… Biting at the inside of his mouth, he had already half-turned to get back on the horse when a voice stopped him.

"It's Will, isn't it?"

Looking back, his eyes focussed on a young woman, taller and more statuesque than Sioned, with a mass of brilliant, blond hair hanging down past her shoulders. Frowning, his face creased slightly as he tried to remember her – extremely pretty – face.

"B...Bridget?"

The woman laughed silkily, the sound rich and musical, "I'm impressed – most men tend to forget."

Will was beginning to wish that he had forgotten; he didn't even like to think what he'd been like on that night. Although his main recollections of that evening was his kiss with Sioned, and the fight that had ensued, he did remember drinking with the young woman; while being very, very drunk. Although, judging by the smile on Bridget's face, he couldn't have been all bad.

As he grimaced, Bridget moved forward to stroke the nose of his horse soothingly, a bright blue dress tightly bound around her, "You were well into your cups when last I saw you; but still a gentleman. It was an admirable trait." Shooting a coy look up at him, the woman arched an eyebrow up at him, "You look as though you might need another drink now."

The outlaw stared at the ground, not liking the feelings of despair that were stirring around inside of him. His friendship with Allan had been dented and damaged beyond their usual squabbles – and Allan's words had planted sickening seeds of doubt within him concerning Sioned. He could still hear his best friend's voice echoing clearly in his ears… _You think she might want more from you?...do you honestly believe she cares about you?...She made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing more…It's men like Gisborne…not you …you think she'd choose some penniless carpenter's son?_ His stomach churning furiously, he shrugged, not particularly wanting to answer, "Just an argument with a friend…and some unexpected surprises, that's all." He mumbled at the ground, "And I'm...I just..."

Bridget's hand moved over to cover his, her fingers gently caressing the palm of his hand, "I cannot promise to solve all your problems, but if you promise to retain that gentlemanly quality, I have a warm hearth and a jug of wine." When Will paused, she laughed again. "I can also promise not to bite, if that's what worries you."

This time the pause was less drawn out. He desperately needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen without judging him; and he couldn't help but remember the comfort that Bridget had shown him the last time. Also, there was a hint of sullen resolve buried deep in Will's nature…Allan had said he was so naïve, that he didn't know anything about women…

"I'd love to."

-0-0-0-

"Sweet earth!" In one fluid movement, Robin had dismounted, fell to the ground, and kissed the grass, "I shall never leave you again!"

Marian laughed, setting herself down on the ground next to Robin. Having finally given up on the jousting, they had all unanimously agreed to ride off from the 'tourney ground', leaving the many practice shields discarded on the ground. Now in the fields that bordered Knighton, the rest of the gang were laughing, relaxed and beginning to replay Robin's numerous efforts – and were moved off a little way away from her and Robin. Marian could feel the first hints of delight flutter through her.

"You did very well, despite…certain set backs," She teased, tossing her rich brown hair back from her face. Marian was pleased to feel its heavy weight settle at her back; despite her defiant comments, she had always preferred it long. So, she remembered, had Robin. "I thought we would never get you on the horse."

As said horse, with a certain amount of relief, began to nibble at the grass, Robin grinned, rolling onto his back and slid an arm around her waist, "So you're proud of me then?"

There it was; although Robin's tone of voice was cocky, smug, Marian could sense behind it the tone of longing, the need to be wanted and loved. Today, with the sun beating down upon them, and on such a day of laughter, she felt freely able to give the reassurance Robin seemed to crave, "Of course I am. I can safely say that you are the bravest man in the whole of England – with the possible exception of Much and Sulien, who had to face you head-on."

Once, Robin would have pouted, pretending to sulk because she had not spent all of her energy on singing his praises. Now, although he stuck his tongue out, he nodded, grinning. He had grown so much over the years, learning to give as well as receive. Marian felt her heart swell; more proud of him for that than any amount of training.

"The boys did well today. They're good men to have at my side." Robin agreed. Looking over contentedly at where Little John, Friar Tuck and Sulien were moving off, as if by vote, the young man sighed, nestling his head into the crook between Marian's neck and shoulder, "I'm the luckiest man alive." Good spirits, plus his natural mischievous nature, prompted him to tease her slightly, "Because of my men at my side, of course. I'm not talking about you."

Spluttering, half with indignation, half with amusement, Marian shoved at him in play, gasping with laughter as he began to tickle her. He knew every inch of her that was ticklish, and he pressed the advantage ruthlessly, grinning as he did so. It was a method that Robin had used so many times when they were younger; first, when they were children, as a way to gain the advantage when they play-fought; later, as a prelude to more private, intimate moments. Watching as Marian doubled up with shrieks of laughter, wriggling and squirming, all of her usual composure lost in an instant, Robin felt his throat grow dry. Sliding his hand around hers and entwining their fingers, he spared one brief look to look across at where his men were, before pulling Marian swiftly to her feet and into his arms.

Moments later, under the dark, safe canopy of the forest trees, the sunlight that filtered through the branches making patterns against them, Marian's overdress had already been discarded, her arms wound tightly about him. The look of utter delight that was flickering over her beautiful features made Robin shiver, the same look no doubt reflected on his own face. Gathering her safely into his arms, he gently laid her down on the ground, and kissed her forehead, her closed eyes and her lips; before lying down beside her on the cloaks they had spread out on the hard ground. Something nudged against his hip, and, groaning with impatience, one hand stroking and caressing Marian's neck, Robin used his free hand to scramble under Marian's cloak and unearth her bow and quiver. The quiver he recognised, but with a slight frown, he looked over at the bow. It was beautifully carved, and well-made, but completely alien to him.

"What – "

The look on Marian's face as she looked up at him robbed him of words. Completely trusting, and full of love. "I wanted to thank you for it. It's a wonderful gift, Robin – so thank you." Leaning up and kissing his lips gently, she shot him a coy look, "Evidently you listened when I said you never get me a gift."

"Well, I'm good at listening." Robin replied, a grin passing over his features. Unwilling to hide his surprise, and resolving to solve the mystery later, he pushed the bow to one side, both out of his hands and out of his mind, and let Marian pull him into her warm arms.

-0-0-0-

"Who was that girl you were talking to?"

Will looked up from staring into the embers of the glowing fire. Although small, and relatively poky, the room was bright and well-aired, and the cushion he sat on was as soft as heaven in comparison to the forest floor and thin blankets he was used to. A bowl of warm pottage had been pushed into his hands, as well as a flagon of wine; and Bridget's company was both relaxing and welcoming. After the turmoil he'd gone through over the last few weeks, it felt like a safe haven. He could have stayed there permanently.

"Which girl?" He asked, taking a swallow of the wine.

Bridget leant against him, her unbound golden locks trailing over his shoulder as she sat down next to him, their backs to the wall. Although she'd laughed at his innocence, swearing that she would do nothing to 'corrupt him'; the young woman had been quite eager to kiss and soothe him, enjoying teasing him. No less naïve, as Allan would have put it, but a fair bit more cheerful, Will was quite content to let his head rest on Bridget's shoulder. "The one at the inn wearing a lad's clothes, the one who gave you and your friend a right seeing-to," She laughed indulgently, "And the one who Miriel believed was a young man."

Grimacing, not wanting to think of Sioned, Will repressed the urge to turn around and tell her to mind her own business. Besides, he wasn't even thinking of Sioned at the present time. "She's the sister of a man who fights with us."

"She has a pretty face," Bridget mused, snaking one arm around him to trail her fingers across his ribs. Will closed his eyes, a soft groan escaping from the back of his throat.

"I hadn't noticed," He replied, his voice somewhat strangled.

The young woman smiled, "Then you're either blind or a liar. Is she a lover, or a betrothed?"

Will's eyes opened again, and he turned around, Bridget's gentle caresses forgotten, "What?"

"Well, she is obviously something." Tilting her pert nose in the air, Bridget shot an appraising look in Will's direction, "I know men and women; so you can't tell me there isn't something going on between you and her."

The carpenter shifted slightly, uneasy with the way in which the conversation was travelling. Too many open, tender wounds ready to be pressed, "Well, I'm not having an affair with Sioned Thornton." He replied, with a pang at mentioning her name. For one thing, she'd never let him.

Bridget shrugged, obviously not believing him, "The way she looked at me in the inn, I could be thinking that something was afoot. I know jealousy when I see it."

That was interesting. Will was more intrigued than he let on, staring needlessly into the fire again. Perhaps the attraction was why they fought each other, pushing away a complication which would not be welcome. It was certainly a reason…but then Sioned's angry face swam back into his mind, the words 'you've done enough' reverberating in his mind. He scowled, his jaw setting furiously. Both of them; Allan and Sioned, were still uppermost in his mind, despite Bridget's efforts. He felt another stab of anger towards them both.

-0-0-0-

An equally irritable scowl was gracing Sioned's face as she strode through Nottingham, hampered by the skirts that were weighing her down, restricting her legs. When she'd begged to see her friends one last time, she'd changed into the crimson dress that her father had bought for her last birthday; both wanting to show off towards her companions again, and not wanting them to see her in the men's garb that she now wore. Now she was regretting it, the dress beautiful, and easy to walk short distances in, but highly impractical when it came to searching for Will. Plus she was getting some strange looks from the people around in the town; a woman alone could only go a certain distance before her presence was remarked upon and her morality questioned.

Sighing, Sioned considered going back to the camp and giving up her rather fruitless search. But then Djaq would be there, and demand to know why she hadn't apologised yet…and, in truth, she wanted to make her peace with Will. At least then the true bitterness that had entered their relationship would be pushed aside; making it easier for them to bicker and trade insults with each other more easily. Rolling her eyes at her thoughts, unbidden, the image of Will entered her mind; the deep sea-blue eyes, dark rumpled hair, and the determined set of his jaw – or, more rarely, the mischievous grin that only graced his expression while in the company of the gang.

Her body responded to the image with a treacherous melting, her step faltering faintly as her legs weakened, while her emotions changed from longing through guilt to irritation, towards both Will and herself. She would find him, she would apologise, and in the end everything would be back to the way it was; as if the kiss had never happened, and as if she'd never so obviously hurt his pride by professing her doubt of his honour. Despite her furious thoughts, she could not help but let her memories wander, smiling to herself as she remembered the force of the kiss, the gentle but passionate way in which he'd held and caressed her…so utterly distracted was Sioned that she didn't notice the ale cart trundling down the street until it was almost upon her, forcing her to dive out of the way and crass into a door of a town house, hitting it with a loud thud.

"Damn and blast!" She exclaimed furiously, in a very unladylike tone of voice. Hopping on one foot from where her ankle had turned, Sioned grimaced indulgently as the folk watching her laughed at the spectacle, and then stepped backwards as the door to the house opened.

A woman with fair, unblemished skin and long blond hair, obviously alerted by the crash and the shout, stepped out of the door, a blue dress bound tightly around her. She was a fair bit taller than Sioned, her body boasting generous curves and long legs; and her face was a smooth oval, with fine, slim features that were creased into a smile. "That dratted ale cart. I've almost been run down by it twice in this past week alone." She continued to smile, but warily so, as if she was trying to remember something.

Sioned herself was struggling to remember the face; something about it gave her the unsettling feeling of having seen it before, and not being pleased to at that. Shaking off her feelings, she smiled herself, brushing off her now dusty dress, "I'm sorry about that. I-I was looking for someone, and not paying attention to where I was going, but…"

Another look at the young woman revealed something she had not noticed before; several bright blue ribbons caught up in her hair. An ale-fuddled memory came back to her, almost screaming with its poignancy, and she took a step backwards as she recognised the woman that Will had held in his arms at the inn; the woman who had talked to him so blatantly it was almost shameless. Unconsciously, she bristled.

The young woman had obviously reached the same conclusion. Although her bright green eyes were still smiling, they also now held a touch of caution. "You must be Sioned?"

Sioned's throat almost closed up then and there. "You know my name?" She demanded tersely, her voice rising it pitch and almost squeaking.

"Yes – and if you are looking for the person I think you are, then you have found him." Although her husky voice was casual, it held a note of challenge as she turned and leant back in through the door, "Will! Will, you have a visitor!"

"Will?" Her voice was quiet, a whisper of disbelief only to herself. Sioned could hardly believe that Will was in the house in front of her. Although her expression remained composed, steady, inside her lungs felt as though they were being squashed down and compressed; fury, disbelief, longing and treacherous jealousy all surging through her. What was Will in there for? She could well come up with some reasons; reasons she did not want to think about. Sioned felt sick to her stomach.

"What is – " Sioned looked up as Will stepped out beside the young woman, his eyes widening as if a rat caught in a trap, "Sioned, what are you doing here?"

"I could well ask you the same question." She shot a look over at the woman, who was watching them both with an intrigued look on her face. It was difficult not to be intimidated by her; Sioned was short, and relatively pixie-like in both stature and figure, and the woman was far more beautiful. As the woman started to run her fingers through her hair, braiding it into a plait, Sioned felt a pang pass through her. She had always been vain of her thick, rebellious dark-red tresses, but next to the woman's shining gold mane, her hair seemed lessened by comparison. Foolish, silly tears sprung up behind her eyes. Will and this woman; it seemed too much to bear.

"I'll…leave you two to your discussion," Passing a hand over Will's shoulder, which was entirely for Sioned's benefit, the young woman pecked him once on the cheek before retreating back into the house.

Dusky red with embarrassment and shame, Will sneaked a look over at Sioned; who looked torn between wanting to shout at him and wanting to cry. This wasn't the way he had wanted things to turn out. Not at all. Defensive, he folded his arms tightly, "Well?"

"What were you doing in there?" Opting for anger rather than hurt as her chief emotion, Sioned glowered furiously at him.

"None of your business!" Angry at Sioned's judgemental glower, which kept answering back at him, and Allan words echoing through his mind, he scowled furiously. Sioned had no right to be angry at him for anything, he thought, not when she'd rebuffed him like that, "What do you want, anyway?"

Letting her breath slide out in a prolonged sigh, Sioned gathered her wits, "I…I wanted to say sorry for the way I snapped at you that night." No need to say which night, her colour had returned heartily in a deep blush, "I….It wasn't fair, and I'm sorry."

"I suppose you thought you were completely in the right when you said it," He snarled softly, everything that she'd shot at him returning with double strength. Sioned, Allan…nothing was going right in his world at the moment. The thought that she was simply paying him a pittance by apologising stung greatly at his heart; the thought that she'd much rather have kissed Gisborne, or Godwin – or, God forbid, Allan, made him feel sick with anger.

"I should never have said what I did," Sioned bit at her lip apologetically. Usually Will would have been impressed at the way she held herself in; the way she was apologising. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had never apologised to someone before in her life, "All I could think of at that time was that I and Sulien had just been outlawed; that I had been upset and it had felt as though you were using the situation to your own gain."

"And I was a man who had 'done enough', who had taken advantage of you," Will retorted contemptuously, not in the least bit mollified by Sioned's confession that she was in the wrong.

Her eyes darkened, chin jutting, "I came to apologise, not be railed at."

"Well, perhaps I don't feel much like forgiving you," He retorted, satisfied as she recoiled, "Just go away, Sioned. I don't want you." It was a horrible, aching lie, and it almost hurt to say it. He'd never wanted and despised anything so much.

Her eyes welled up, her vision almost swimming before her. Not willing to let him see how hurt she was, her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands, "Because you want that…woman so much?"

"Maybe!" Will yelled, all hope of reconciliation vanished, "At least she's not some silly little girl!"

Sioned choked back a sob, her entire body shaking by now. "I hate you!" She shouted back loudly, before hitching her skirts up and running past down through the milling townsfolk. A few moments, and the red-dressed, red-haired figure was vanished.

Groaning, Will leant back against the doorpost, his head throbbing tiredly. All he needed was to lie down and sleep. In the space of an hour or so, he seemed to have lost the two most important people in his life; Allan, his best friend, and Sioned, who was…well, Sioned. Arguments that would usually have been mended easily seemed ready to tear their entire camaraderie apart. As he sighed, the door opened behind him, and Bridget's hand found its way to his shoulder, "She's just a child," She soothed, "She can't make trouble for you."

"She already has," Will replied ruefully, and set off into the town again.

-0-0-0-

This was…ridiculous. Utterly so.

Guy of Gisborne looked around him as he sat in the Great Hall, feeling hunted. Now he knew how the hare, the deer and the wild boar felt when he took his hounds out hunting.

Admittedly, it was supposed to be like any other Council of Nobles. An improvised meeting, not scheduled. He'd replied to the summons easily enough; it was the Sheriff's whim to call such meetings. But there were none of the usual lords…Edwards, Merton, Loughborough…none of them were there. No, there were many Nobles here…all with young, pretty daughters.

Vasey was smirking quite heavily.

Gisborne stifled a horrified grimace. There was none of the usual discussions and politics that were usually in the councils; instead, there was a great deal of courtly chatter; something he had never been accustomed to. He felt out of place; robbed for words and unsure of what to do.

And Vasey had introduced him to ten Ladies so far.

He was beginning to feel slightly frightened.

As the Sheriff, the smirk on his face as wide as a cat's, approached him, Gisborne resisted the urge to grab his sword and run for the door. Even fighting Hood was better than this. He had to remember to speak politely, pay compliments, and chose a topic of conversation fitting for the occasion, and the woman. All in all, things he could quite happily do without. Besides, he was starting to feel suspicious. He was the only young man here, and there were quite a gathering of women.

Was his Sheriff _matchmaking_?

"Ah; Gisborne. Glad I found you." _As if you've let me out of your sight for ten minutes_, Gisborne thoughts blackly as he turned to see the Sheriff standing beside him. Next to the older man was a young woman, thin and gaunt, but with bright blue eyes and a finely cut dress. "This is Milady Sybilla de Montroi; the daughter of a personal friend to the Prince. I trust you two will hit it right off, hmm?"

As the Sheriff almost bounced away, and Sybille de Montroi turned her head expectantly towards him, Gisborne wondered, not for the first time that day, if anyone would notice should he start banging his head against the wall.

-0-0-0-

Head in his hands, and staring out at the empty camp, Allan kept replaying the day through his mind, cursing at himself each time he did so. Eleanor, Will, Eleanor, Will…he'd messed up everything. Put his foot in it again, like he did so many times. What was it about him that he seemed to hurt or dirty anything he came against?

It wasn't fair. At times he felt like such a fool – but at the same time, raging alongside feelings of guilt; there was still the furious, bitter flame of anger. How dare Eleanor say that he always spoilt things? And how dare Will be so bloody judgemental; making accusations and saying things about himself and Eleanor that he knew nothing about. The young outlaw, who Allan had always adopted as a younger brother, a friend, a companion for when things went bad, had over-stepped the line, and he hated him for it. He so desperately wanted to hurt Will – even though he had given back as good as he'd got, he still wanted to hurt him, even out the balance in some way. The memory of Sioned Thornton, her hair wild and unbound, swaying her slim body in time to the lute, nudged at him. He felt oddly disconcerted. The mixed feelings of anger and unfulfilled lust was still mixing inside of him, and thinking about Sioned in the same space of breath did little to help, performing a strange alchemy on his body. He groaned, frustrated. What was _wrong _with him?

A noise from the undergrowth startled him, and he leapt up and spun around, irritated at his lack of watch. Instead of a soldier or a forester, however, he only came face to face with Sioned. Her red hair a mess, eyes ringed red with crying, she stopped short as she almost ran straight into him, before choking back a sob and turning away.

"What's the matter with you?" Turning, Allan followed Sioned as she stormed through the camp, kicking violently at the fire as she did so. "Sioned?"

Whirled around, her back almost up against an oak tree, Sioned glared at him, "Your stupid best friend!" She yelled, her voice constricted, as if she was holding back more tears, "I _tried _to apologise to him, and I _tried _to make things right, but…but…"

Allan stepped forward as she shuddered again. His arms strong and bracing, he put them around her body and held her as she wept, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words. Will could be a right prat, he thought exasperatedly, shaking his head. Annoyance, coupled with guilt, joined the other emotions within him. Had his comments caused whatever rift had torn the pair apart again?

"Will's an idiot," He replied, taking more pleasure than usual in speaking the words, "What did he do to you?"

Snuffling, Sioned buried her head deeper into Allan's chest, "Oh, he didn't _do _anything; just refused to listen, and then called me a silly little girl when I took offence," Her sobs were more subdued now, the juddering of her body lessened, "_And _he was with that woman again; the blond one from the inn. She's very pretty and _very _tall – I'm sure he'd be happy with someone to match his height," the diminutive woman commented sourly, the hint of a sneer in her voice.

_I'm shorter_, Allan thought to himself, before grinning, the usual humour missing from the expression on his face. It seemed that Sioned had been hit hard by Will; unwittingly, the young man had hurt them both. Will was an idiot, a person of unknown parentage, a rat…and not here. His grip tightened slightly, the strange alchemy playing at him again. He'd always thought of Sioned as an attractive lass, someone to flirt and jest with; playing with fire without actually burning up…but with the opportunity to hurt Will, after all he'd said, right here in his arms…it seemed too good a chance to let slip.

"I hate him," Sioned continued to choke, unaware of the rather disturbing thoughts that were racing through Allan's mind, "I know I hurt him – or his damn pride, whatever it is – but I apologised, again and again and again. I didn't mean to upset him, not that much, I was just so frightened about Sulien and what might happen to us…I assume he told you about the kiss?" She stepped back out of Allan's arms to look up, giving him the chance to run an appreciative eye over her. He nodded vaguely as an answer, by now completely distracted and caught up in the game. "I might have guessed – he tells you everything. I can't believe he won't listen; he's just so bloody stubborn, and I was just so worried and now he's with that woman and I don't think she's very good for him; and for heaven's sake, I don't even like Will, but the least he can do is listen…"

The words threatened to spill out of her mouth until he stoppered them, and so Allan stretched out a hand to place the tips of his fingers against her mouth, effectively shutting her up. Her eyes welling slightly, Sioned's entire body froze as he lightly traced the outline of her lips with his forefinger, his eyes not leaving her own. It was such a dangerous line he was treading; not just playing with fire, but well and truly burning up. Breathing now heavy and laboured, her mouth opened slightly, ready to question, and Allan softly shook his head, the finger slipping into her mouth and caressing the tip of her tongue and her lower lip. The feeling was so excruciating, so utterly perilous. And all the while, his eyes never left hers, watching as her grey eyes grew hazy and dazed.

As he withdrew, Sioned drew a shaky breath. "I just want to forget him," She whispered hoarsely, "Why can't I do that?"

Allan shrugged, before shaking his head, "I can help you with that," He breathed. Taking her hands in his own, he placed them above her head against the tree, pushed her gently up against the tree and kissed her, considerably more forcefully than he had done Eleanor. Pouring out every emotion of anger, desperation, lust and guilt that he had felt over the past few hours.

For a few moments she stayed still, made to bear the brunt of the storm, her hands grasping out against thin air; before Sioned's own emotions got the better of her and she wound her arms about Allan in a parody of how she'd held Will, her fingers digging harshly into the back of his neck.

He could barely believe what he was doing; the entire enterprise foolish and stupid and far, far too dangerous. But, even as Allan gathered the young woman into his arms and laid her down on his bedding, some small part of him felt satisfied with what was happening. The rest of him couldn't help but feel utterly ashamed.

Nevertheless, eager to feel and taste her response, already drunk with the danger and lust of it all, he carried on.

------

looks sheepish Yep, Allan's a prat. But he's just upset. I know I don't say it enough, but there you go: ELEANOR'S AN IDIOT FOR TURNING HIM DOWN. 


	16. Chapter 16: Allan's Many Mistakes

Sorry for lack of updates, people! Mocks...evil...things...

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**Chapter Sixteen: Allan's Many Mistakes**

Whatever his faults – over-eagerness, a tendency to hide behind his brother, and a recklessness that seemed to have been passed down throughout the Scarlett men – no-one could say that Luke Scarlett gave up easily. Scrambling through the bushes and briars that ringed a small piece of land belonging to a farmer, there wasn't an inch of the young lad's face that wasn't muddy, scarred or dishevelled in some way, and there was a nasty bite on his leg from where that brute of a dog had caught him stealing eggs from a chicken house. Only by grabbing the plump, squawking rooster and tossing the flapping bird into the hound's face had he been able to distract him long enough to make his escape. And yet he still struggled through the foliage, as if neither heaven nor hell would have been able to stop him.

The young man, by now emerging headfirst through the bushes and tumbling down onto the road ahead, gave off the distinct impression of having been pummelled with a stick, as if he were a shirt being washed. His dark hair, ruffled and dusty, was hanging over his eyes, and his clothes were getting increasingly muddy as he started along towards his destination. Underneath the mud and the bruises that covered his face, however, were the same handsome features as his brother's. His face was rounder, still loosing the slight plumpness of adolescence, and his eyes were lighter than Will's, less inclined to stare thoughtfully and more inclined to sparkle with merriment, but the same set of the jaw and the same determined, distracted frown graced both his and his brother's features.

At the moment his frown was deep. Benedict could look after his father, he was sure of it, but…maybe he shouldn't have left. He was the only family their father had now. And he was getting so ill, so very, very ill….Luke shook himself mentally, hitching his pack further onto his shoulders. Someone had to tell Will that their father was dying. Besides, leaving for Scarborough while his older brother had headed into the forest had rankled with him. Leaving him behind while he had all the fun. Even as far away as they were now, the stories still leaked in. The famous Robin Hood; champion of the poor, befriender, warrior, hero. His loyal manservant Much, the man Luke had known since infancy. The silent man-mountain, John. A foreign Saracen woman, who knew more magic and potions than you could think of. Allan A Dale, a story weaver and charmer, who even the girls in Scarborough giggled about. And Will Scarlett, a skilled engineer who was as brave as twenty English knights and who could construct anything from anything.

Luke scowled again. He'd known his brother since the day he was born, knew him better than anyone, had spent more time with him than anyone. He was pretty sure that half the stories were made up anyway. Will was brilliant – God alone knew, he'd idolised his brother up to the day they had been hung – but he wasn't _that _brilliant. The thing about his skill with wood was rubbish anyway, he was sure of that. And Will was brave, amazingly brave, that was true, but… _No_. His brother couldn't have climbed as high as all that in public opinion. Not his shy, determined, quiet brother. He could well imagine Robin becoming the people's hero, but his _brother_? As famous as Lord Robin and his men? No. That wasn't him. It couldn't have happened.

And if it _had _happened, then why the hell hadn't Will sent for him? It was all glory and fame, from what Luke heard. Robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Easy as pie, from the tales. So why, _why _hadn't Will come back for him?

Rotten thing to do, anyway. Luke kicked at the ground idly as he plodded along, wondered absent-mindedly if there was somewhere he could spend the night. The time he had spent in Scarborough with his father and that meek Benedict, who his father seemed to like more than him at the moment, being treated like he was still a child, had changed him. Made him just that extra bit hot tempered, that extra bit reckless. The sort of thing Sioned Thornton would call _Will-like_. Only more bitter. Luke still couldn't forgive being left behind.

_What's done is done_, he thought to himself, his father's favourite saying echoing in his mind. He still loved Will; still worshipped his big brother. Still missed him with all of his heart, and couldn't wait to see him. He just…had a few things to say to him when he got to Sherwood, that was all.

-0-0-0-

The choices we make are vital. One simple choice can shape our entire future. Change us in ways we can never imagine. One wrong move, and a few years later, our entire lives can be in ruins.

Guy of Gisborne was discovering this.

He had made the wrong choice. Been a fool. Not seen the path he should have chosen clearly. And now he was suffering for it, being made to pay for his ignorance and mistakes.

When he had set off to kill the King in the Holy Lands, he had made a mistake.

He should have remained and killed the Sheriff instead.

The Slender Raven Haired Beauty in front of him (Damned if he was going to try and remember her name. But at least he'd come up with a courtly title for her. He could have said Skinny Charcoal Haired Woman Of Dubious Attractiveness And Probably Doubtful Morals Too. It would have been more fitting.) fluttered her eyelids up into his face. Guy was tempted to enquire as to whether or not she had something in her eye.

Was it meant to be this _hard_? Talking and cozening kitchen maids and serving wenches seemed so much simpler than this. Flattering Sioned Thornton had been easy. Even talking and occasionally gently flirting with Marian had been so much less…complex. But then Marian had never been one for false words and courtly love. A pang struck through him, making him realise how much he missed her.

Damn the woman.

Vaguely aware that the SRHB was talking to him, he focussed his attention in time to hear her simper slightly. "I have heard that you do so much to control the treacherous outlaws in the forest, Sir Guy," She smiled sweetly – at least, Guy assumed that it was meant to be sweet, rather than sickly, "You must be extremely brave."

Resisting the urge to retch, Guy managed a false smile, looking up in time to see Vasey looking over in his direction, wearing the patented, not-allowed-for-anyone-else's-use-apart-from-your-Lord-Sheriff smirk. The smirk of a cat who not only has the cream, but the fish, the venison, the wild boar _and _all the sweetmeats. The smirk of an evil genius seeing a plan come into fruition. Vasey was smirking the smirk of a man who was enjoying himself. A lot.

_I will get you for this,_ Gisborne tried to convey by glare alone. _If it takes me the rest of my life, if I have to go off into the forest, become an outlaw and live with bloody Hood and his men just to get my sweet, sweet revenge, rest assured, I will make you pay for this._

The Sheriff raised his goblet in a mocking salute, and beamed at him.

Gisborne could feel his will breaking. Shuddering slightly, he turned to the woman next to him with an apologetic smile, "Forgive me….Milady," He excused himself, "But I have a few matters of the utmost importance that require my attention. I shall only be a few moments, I assure you."

Looking crest-fallen, but nodding, the woman stepped back, allowing him to sidle away, looking around to make sure no-one was paying attention before making a full sprint for the door. Only when he'd gotten down the corridor did he stop, utterly a pained groan and letting his forehead fall against the blissfully cold stone of the castle wall. Never again. There was no way he was going back inside there. The hounds of hell would not be able to drag him back in there. After leaving the gift of the longbow in Marian's stables, forcing a gaggle of women on him was the last thing he needed. He did _not _need a wife. He did _not _need the Sheriff making his life even more of a living hell than it already was. All he really felt that he needed was the woman who'd been plaguing his thoughts for as long as he'd know her…

"You escaped then. Personally, I'm impressed you managed to hold out for that long. You looked like one of my brother's hounds when it's faced with the prospect of a bath."

Surprised by the sudden voice, Gisborne turned to see a woman of about his age standing in the doorway leading out from the castle chapel, a knowing, sympathetic smile on her face which bordered on the mischievous side. Her hair respectably covered by a thin veil of light gauze, it was not enough to hide spirals and spirals of dark chestnut hair; and her face and features were sharp enough not to be pretty. She raised an eyebrow, smoothing down skirts of a rich plum colour; evidently creased from kneeling in prayer.

After regaining his composure, Gisborne let loose a shaken laugh, grimacing as he did so, "Now I understand how the hunted animal feels when we give chase to capture it," His head to one side, he studied her cautiously without appearing rude, "Forgive me…I do not remember your face."

The woman chuckled, "It would be small wonder if you didn't; but I decided not to linger in the Great Hall after five minutes of gossip and speculation. I've been hiding away in here," Slim fingers gestured to the chapel behind her, "praying for patience."

"Lucky you." It was the first thing he'd said all day that came straight from his mind without being examined to see if it was polite or courtly enough; and it was a relief.

Facing him as an equal, the woman was almost as tall as him, "I know who you are, of course; the privileged, rich, but hunted and unfortunate Sir Guy of Gisborne." Gisborne chuckled ruefully, grimacing again. How true… "As for me, I'm Lady Annais de Montroi. You met my sister in the Great Hall."

Guy tried to focus, "…The young lady with a great interest in embroidery and heraldry?"

"Sadly not; that would be Monday of Salisbury. My sister is the coquettish little brat who goes by the name Sybilla and will giggle as soon as a man mentions marriage, hunting, fighting or anything remotely connected to men using their bodies for sport." Annais spoke so bluntly, without shame of reprisal, that Gisborne felt his eyes widen almost instantaneously, "Forgive my bluntness; but these gatherings bring out the worst in me."

"As they do me." Scowling, Guy looked back down the corridor glumly, "I should probably be rejoining them."

"Let me join you," Annais grinned cheerfully, leading him back down the corridor, "You look as though you could use an ally."

-0-0-0-

Brunin, a small, skinny little boy, was at that moment scampering through Sherwood Forest. It was habit of his; he had a bow and arrow, but he'd promised not to shoot anything. For his mother. He'd die for his mother.

More than anything, he wanted to find the famous outlaws.

Coming to a halt, before moving stealthily, barely setting his foot down on the ground, the young lad looked around sharply, big brown eyes observing anything and everything. He _loved _the forest. He loved the excitement, the mystery, the chances he could take. Shuffling carefully forward, craning his neck, he peered through the foliage surrounding him to see further.

His big brown eyes widened further.

Quickly, sensing that this was not something for him, he let the branches of the bush he'd sheltered behind spring back into place, before walking very quickly back the way he came; his neck and ears bright red.

-0-0-0-

John's feet struck the ground leisurely as he wandered through Nottingham, for once feeling able to look around, trying to see the sparks of humanity that could not be stamped out, no matter what the Sheriff of Nottingham did. Usually he was too occupied with his own thoughts, worrying about whatever mission was going wrong for the gang to wander about the town at his own free will, but today was different. Today was a good day. It had been filled with light, love, and laughter – plenty of laughter, mostly at Robin's expense – and his time was his own. And so, to satisfy his own, rarely revealed, mischievous nature, he had left young Sulien and Friar Tuck to their speculations about whatever could Robin and Lady Marian be up to, to perform a little errand.

Turning off a side-street into the poorer, but still stable, end of time, Little John's keen eyes scanned the various forges until he found the one he was looking for. A ruddy faced man of about his own age, both hale and hearty, looked up from moulding and working a sheet of iron and raised a hand in greeting.

Chuckling, Little John approached the man; providing a clap on the back and a purse full of coins as greeting. The man had five hungry children to feed, and besides, he had a job that needed doing.

"What's your need then, John?"

John beamed. Robin had begun to improve on his training, fair enough, but he was having far too easy a time of it. The young man hadn't the physique for a jouster, and he was riding in his usual garb of breeches and a shirt. And so he intended to tip the scales slightly.

"A suit of armour."

-0-0-0-

"Where's Robin?"

Sulien shot a wicked look up at Much from where he was lying down on the grass, a stalk of grass between his lips and his hands folded lazily behind his head, "D'you really want to know?"

As Djaq sat down cross-legged, Much quickly scanned the landscape. Friar Tuck was chortling lasciviously to himself, and they'd passed Little John on their way home; but there was no sign of Robin…or Marian. Realisation dawned with almost an audible clunk. "…..Ah."

The young man laughed cheerfully, staring out into the blue sky, "Better for your innocence sensibilities that I don't tell you, I reckon. Tuck suggested me sneaking back to check it out, but…well…"

Tomboy or not, one of the lads or not, Djaq's female sensibilities were irritated, and she leant over, smacking the older man on the shoulder, "Tuck!"

Friar Tuck had the decency to look ashamed, "I only meant to see if they were alright. You don't know; they might be only…picking berries."

Sulien snorted, "Yeah, and I'm Richard the Lionheart. They've been gone for ages, Tuck," A slightly wistful note entered his voice. "Robin's a lucky rat."

Much knew without asking that Sulien was thinking of the lovely Julitta, who's father was the reeve of the village and disapproved strongly of Sulien's troublesome antics – and would probably throw a fit on learning that his daughter was sweet on an outlaw. Looking over at Sulien's trouble-free, sun-weathered face, it became apparent how much he had cheered up on joining the gang; as if now all his embittered energies could truly be directed in the right direction. Keep Sioned safe and stop any conversations between him and Allan and Will from getting too detailed, and he could well turn back to the young man he remembered from before they'd left.

"Much! Much, I need to talk to you."

Tuck and Sulien both spluttered as Robin, lids heavy and looking distinctly dishevelled, appeared behind them. The four remaining outlaws exchanged fierce, yet innocent looks that quite clearly stated: _I'll keep quiet if you will_. Robin's appearance was not something they could remark upon. It was just too easy.

"Where...where's Marian?" Sulien managed to choke out, in a slightly strangled voice. Djaq quickly looked away, shaking with suppressed laughter.

"In the forest," Robin replied tersely, not in the mood for jests. The last he'd seen her, she had curled up in and underneath their cloaks, her shift being the only thing on her, fast asleep. For a few moments he'd quietly stroked her hair, wanting to prolong the moment, before he took the chance he'd been handed. Sighing, he presented Marian's bow to Much, "Much; I need you to take this to the craftsmen and coopers in Nottingham to find out who ordered it."

"Erm…why?"

Robin bit at his lip, "Marian found it in her stables. She thinks _I_ gave it to her."

"It's a beautiful weapon," Much admired, looking at the bow from all angles, "And you're saying that you didn't?"

"Of course not!"

"Does it matter?" Friar Tuck asked, bewildered.

"_Yes_!"

Much sighed, nodding. He couldn't explain Robin to the others, why the thought that someone else was providing for Marian in a way that he never did would hold so heavily on his heart. Some things he just had to do by himself. "Don't worry, Robin, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Robin nodded gratefully, shuffled his feet against the grass for a few seconds before turning tail and fairly racing back towards the forest edge. Sulien spluttered again.

Friar Tuck picked up his quarter staff from by his side, rolling it skilfully between his hands, "Where's Will?"

"Deliveries," Djaq murmured. She was highly occupied in plucking blades of grass from the earth and letting them flutter back down again, "We saw him when coming back. He didn't look very happy."

"As always," Sulien snorted, "Then where's Allan? And where's Sioned?"

The outlaws exchanged glances. All four of them had expected one of the others to have set eyes upon them, but after a few moments of discussion it became obvious that neither of them had been seen since Allan and Will's argument. Sulien was all for going and search for them, but Much overruled him. After all, he said, it wasn't likely that they'd been captured. They were probably looking after each other, he explained, and it was very likely that they were safe in each other's company.

-0-0-0-

Hands shaking, Allan managed to tear himself away from Sioned's mouth and propped himself up on one elbow to study her face mere inches below his. Her eyes were closed lightly, a small frown creasing her expression. He stifled a groan, of lust or desperation he wasn't yet sure, leaning his forehead briefly against her shoulder. To his own shock, he had managed so far to refrain from lying with her, but he'd listened to her choke back a sob as he'd laid her down next to him, kissed every inch of her body that he could find, let his hands explore every curve and crease in her until she'd been trembling all over. Things far too intimate to sit well on his conscience; and every moment beside Sioned, while his blood pounded through his head and conflicting emotions battled away inside of him, was pure torture. He felt like a fool; and yet there was satisfaction in seeing the young woman shudder or whimper every time his fingers brushed against her.

And it wasn't as if his first resolve to get back at Will through the girl was a particularly difficult, or repulsive task. She was attractive in her own way, not with the same beauty as Eleanor of course, but fiery and uncontrollable. If she was some farmer's daughter he'd come across in his travels, he would have had no qualms about having her. And Sioned was no frail milksop to lie back and take everything coming to her; she was kissing him back with almost the same painful desperation that he kissed her, her fingers digging tightly into his shoulders.

It was just that he knew this was wrong. He knew that he wasn't the one she wanted, just as he knew that it wasn't Sioned he wanted to bed. Several times she'd been on the point of gasping a name before biting it back, and Allan, always ready for a wager, would have been willing to bet all the money in the Sheriff's coffers whose that name was. Lord, Will would hate him for this. Both him and Sioned – and Eleanor, if she ever found out. Uttering a quiet oath, and wondering why life wasn't any more simple, Allan angled his head to kiss her again, his hands moving up and down her body. Raw lust warred with moral responsibility. Your best friend's girl: the sober part of his mind told him. A fair enough lass; and Will deserves everything that's coming to him, you have the right; said the part burning to be quenched. He felt torn; and the way Sioned moaned against him, the slight rotation of her hips pushing up against his own, were lures that were impossible to resist.

And always there was the same cold, detachable part of him that pushed him further; one, very horrible part of him that prompted him to sneer at Much and was at the fore in the old days with Tom, that was egging him on. _Sulien's sister_, it said meanly. _Wouldn't that be shoving it in his face? Will…imagine how he'll react when he finds out about this! And even if you don't care about giving those two everything that they deserve, think of how good this feels. Don't you remember life before the Sherwood gang, with your old friends and Tom…the chase with all those lasses? The conquest – that was fun, wasn't it? _

Through Sioned's mind different thoughts were racing through her mind, as fast as lightning. Her body was responding to Allan's skilled attention, making goose bumps appear all over her flesh and her breathing rapid and drawn out; but her treacherous mind was rebelling sharply against it, almost like a disapproving friend shaking their head with sad disappointment. With every kiss that Allan would place on her mouth, her mind would perfidiously remind her of how wonderful it had felt to have Will kiss that same mouth, every time Allan put his arms about her, she would be prompted to remember Will's shyer, cautious embraces.

Choking back another sob, her hands clenching themselves into fists, she pulled back and pressed her face into Allan's shoulder. She was so confused, so lost…it felt as though someone had uprooted her and placed her in an entirely new place, somewhere she didn't even understand. _This should be Will, _she thought, while tears sprung past her eyes and Allan carefully brushed them away. _Will should be holding me, Will should be kissing away my tears, **Will **should be with me now._ And the thought was so disturbing and foreign to her that it almost felt like a punch in the stomach. Coupled with the dangerous pleasure she was getting, Sioned bit down sharply on her lip, shaking and weeping and almost choking with emotions.

"Oh Lord…" She managed to gasp out against Allan's shoulder, and he paused enough to listen. "I didn't…oh, I just…cannot…" Breaking off, she screwed her eyes up, whispering Will's name frantically, over and over while lying next to his best friend.

Allan froze for two seconds. The different sides of him, which had all been clamouring at him from the moment he'd kissed her, all screamed for his attention at the same time, almost making him reel even while he knew it wasn't genuine. All he'd ever wanted to do was prove himself. In what way, he didn't even know, only to show that he was made of stronger metal than everyone thoughts. He didn't even know who he was proving himself to, or why he'd chosen to do it in this way. With remote, almost unfeeling determination, he pushed her down further into the bedding, kissing Sioned's neck with a strange fervour.

"Allan, let it be." Sioned, shrinking back, pleaded, clutching at straws. It didn't seem to be the Allan she knew anymore, the same Allan who would joke and jest with everyone he met, be it friend or enemy or complete stranger. She didn't know the young man, utterly troubled, who kissed her and tugged at her clothing. Blind panic gripped at her stomach, "Allan, stop it! Just stop!" When he didn't, she pushed back at him, kicking him in the shins.

He noticed little of the pain, but the fact that Sioned was fighting at all brought him to an edge. To subdue by force, or let her go. Some men would have had no qualms, he thought. Guy of Gisborne, he thought, would probably have had no qualms. He thought.

Sitting up, gasping for breath, Allan scrambled backwards a little way, allowing Sioned to sit up and allow her breath to tear into her lungs. Dress pushed off one shoulder, skirts up to her knees. Tear-streaked face, and frightened, betrayed grey eyes staring astounded at him. He still didn't know if he could stand being in her presence any longer.

"Get out of here," He ordered, his voice lost all usual good-humour. "Just go, will you?"

Like a bird who has had a cage opened but is cautious of fleeing in case it is snatched back again, Sioned stared at him for a few moments, utterly torn. Her eyes were beginning to fill with pity. Swearing, screwing his eyes up, Allan clenched his fingers. He longed so much for her to have the sense to get up and go. He was already finding it too hard to keep a grip on his sanity, and one more push seemed to be all it would take.

"Do it!" Allan yelled, "Before I do my honour any more damage, will you _please _just – bloody – go!"

There was the sound of a sharp, indrawn breath, ragged and shaky, and then the sound of Sioned getting to her feet and walking quickly – Sioned would never run – away from him. As soon as she was out of earshot, Allan slumped against his pack, feeling sick to the core and visibly shaking.

Three people, in the space of a day. Eleanor – a girl he could never have, who'd never love him. Will, his best friend, who was more like a brother to him. And Sioned, who he'd always been fond of. How could he have let himself slip so far?

Groaning, he managed to pull himself to his feet, intending to tend to the dead fire, something for him to do. Before he managed to do it, however, his foot shot out and kicked the embers, scattering them across the abandoned camp. Not able to move and pick them up, he stared across at the fragmented pieces in numb, frozen shock, horrified at himself.

Dear Lord, what had he done? And what was he going to do now?

------

I don't know whether to wack him around the head or hug him... My characters get way too cocky for their own good. Don't worry about the lack of Will (I wrote a chapter without Will?), he will show up soon. I just didn't want to scar him for life... 


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